Artemis and Apollo
by Lampetia
Summary: Twins with mutant powers get help from the X-Men when they are attacked by the military group Stryker left behind. Action ensues. R&R PLEASE!
1. Not Without Purpose

Disclaimer:  Hey, of course I didn't create all the X-Men characters! ;)  But I did have a lot of fun creating the ones you're going to read about.  I can only hope you like them as much as I do!  Enjoy!

Sergeant Warrick Manning stared into the heavy pile of blue prints until they blurred before his eyes.  It was midnight at the base outside of Washington, D.C., and the rain that pattered down against the only window of his office showed no signs of stopping.

But it was not the rain that kept Manning up that night, nor the blueprints.

Alkali Lake had been a disaster.  The movement had lost many of their best men in that battle.  The casualties had been horrific in number.  But most importantly they had lost their only working replica of Cerebro, along with innumerable amounts of time, effort, and information – priceless entities that could never be replaced.

Manning used his pointer finger and thumb to massage the skin between his eyes.  After the mutants made their direct attack on mankind, their murderous intent could no longer be ignored by society.  That headache that started at the base of your skull, the piercing pain that pulsed harder and harder until you felt yourself losing your mind had left its mark on every human being worldwide.  The death screams echoed across the globe.  In that moment, surgeries failed.  Car crashes lined the streets.  Strokes riddled the elderly, and parents watched helplessly as their children's lives were nearly taken from them forever.

Likewise, the mutant population experienced the same closeness of death from their own oppressors.  And in one fleeting moment Manning, like everyone else in the fight against the mutants, could feel their hopes rising, could almost taste a thankful final victory.  However, no such reward came.  After the species' survival, it only brought the mutants closer together in a common brotherhood.

Some would see the entire operation as a failure.

But Warrick Manning understood the situation much more clearly than the average observer.  Even if the attack united every single mutant in the universe, their numbers would never match those of the rest of the humanity.  The incident had finally divided the world into two very distinct categories – something his organization had been trying to establish for years.  And eventually, the hate and malice felt against each side would build and build until it reached its peak.

The death of Stryker and the destruction of his base brought with it opportunities that if used correctly could bring unity to the ever-growing anti-mutant movement.

It was then that Sergeant Manning absent-mindedly flipped past the blueprints to stare into the smiling faces of two young teenagers.  Teenagers that on any other day could have easily faded into any high school crowd. 

That was one aspect that made the war all the more difficult to fight.

The battlefield was your backyard, and the enemies' faces were those of your children.  Nonetheless, the fact remained that when it was either you or this child with the infinite power to end your life and the lives of your men, action had to be taken against them, just as you would hope the man next to you would make that same difficult decision to save your life.

The job was not a glamorous one, but it was one that had to be done.  Or humanity would suffer the consequences.

A sharp military knock on his door caused Manning to let the blueprints fall to his desk with a 'slap.'

"Enter."

A familiar face was followed by an unintentional slamming of the door and an official salute.  "Sergeant Manning," a young man addressed.

"At ease."  Manning stepped out from behind his desk and gave the officer a warm handshake.  "I appreciate your speed, Grey."

"The least I could do, sir," he said, taking a seat across from the sergeant.  "Stryker was a good man."

"The best," Manning said, softly, reverentially.

Officer Lexin Grey, who had only recently joined their ranks, with his blonde hair and blue eyes looked more like a Backstreet Boy than a trained official.  But he was efficient and lethal, and had proven these abilities to them time and time again.  The boy was also only twenty-five years of age.  It was amazing what well-directed rage could produce.

"You've been informed of the situation?" Manning asked, his papers clicking against his well-polished desk as he gathered them.

"Yes," Grey replied.

"Then you understand the dangers of this operation."

"Dangers don't concern me, sir." Grey's voice grew heated.  "Only these mutants and their containment."

"Understood," he said.  The sergeant's voice and eyes softened.  "How've you been holding up, Grey?"

"Well." The officer gazed downward. "Things at the base have been running like clockwork-"

Manning paused, leaning forward ever so slightly.  "I wasn't talking about the base."

Grey sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it into the air.  "Things haven't been easy," he said quietly.  "Things like this are never easy."

The sergeant nodded, not sure of what answer he had expected.  "Do you have any questions?" he asked to break the silence.

"I've received no written instructions of any kind.  Neither has any other soldier in the operation."

"Information could easily find its way into the hands of the enemy," Manning said.  "Never underestimate the power of these mutants.  That was Stryker's downfall, but it won't be ours.  Documentation only takes place when absolutely necessary."  Manning lifted a heavy, weathered hand to tap his temple.  "Keep it up here."

"Yes, sir." He paused, shifting inside of his uncomfortable starched uniform.  "I do have one more question."

"Please, proceed," he said curiously.

Grey's eyes peered into his.  "Bentley said you wanted them alive."

"I do."

"What should be done if the mutants do not survive?"

Manning eyes widened at the audacity of the question.  "That's not an option, Grey."

He took another deep breath, trying to contain his frustration.  "Sir, in battle, there can be no guarantees," he stressed.  "One or both might be killed in the capture, it's a logical probability.  Things happen."

"See that they don't," Manning ordered abrasively.

Grey's mouth twisted into a grimace.  "Sir, my objective is first and foremost to ensure the safety of my men." 

"No, your objective is to deliver at all costs," Manning said. "If they prove too deadly, feign retreat.  We know where they'll go."  When Grey clenched his square jaw, Manning lowered his voice.  "Not all mutants are without their purpose, Lex.  You'll grow to see that."

Grey stared forward tensely, refusing to comment.

Manning rose from behind his desk as a king from his throne.  "This operation has spent months in the making."  He smiled confidently at Lexin Grey.  "I know in choosing you to lead it, we've made the right decision."  He gave a forceful salute to his officer before bringing his hand back downward just as sharply.  "I'm sending in twenty-four of my best men and women.  There are reinforcements at your disposal.  Good luck, officer."

"Thank you, sergeant," he said.  His face, initially holding only dismay, began to show pride.  "You won't be disappointed."

Manning watched Officer Grey march out of the building.  When he was out of sight, his smile wavered.  After so many months of preparation, he prayed they wouldn't be.


	2. In Trouble

Lucas Blaize's hands went upward as Allen Iverson crossed-over his defender, pop-faked and pulled up for a long three-ball.  

The ball arched and landed into the basket with a 'swoosh.'  The team, elated with unexpected victory, jumped up and down around each other as announcer Bill Walton said over the loud speaker, "Throw it down, throw it down one time."  

"He shoots!  He scores!" Lucas bellowed, as if he himself were a member of the team.

"Game breaker at the freakin' buzzer!"  Beside him his twin sister, Nora, jumped up on the couch, sending the popcorn next to her spilling onto the cushions.  Her eyes glued to the TV, she watched the scoreboard in anticipation before punching a fist high into the air.  "Three-pointer, baby.  Yeah, Philly!  I love this city."  The two slapped hands and locked themselves back onto the screen.

The announcer sounded just as excited as the twins when he proclaimed, "It's over, boys and girls!  The 76ers have won the game."  

Their cheers mixing with those in the stands, Nora landed onto the floor and put her baseball cap on backwards before victory dancing past the TV.  "Oh, yeah!  Who called it?"

Chuckling at his sister's display, Lucas reached over to begin plowing what popcorn could be salvaged back into the bright blue Tupperware bowl.  "Iverson, why did I ever doubt you," he said, shaking his head.

Grinning, she eagerly leaned over with an open palm.  "Yeah, well, victory for you means money for me.  Pay up, tough guy."

Rolling his eyes, Lucas reached backward to pull out his wallet, an ancient leather hide holding only his driver's license and a wad of ones.  "You're killing me with these bets we make."

"Just be lucky I don't keep a loan shark.  You still owe me thirteen from last week."  Nora snatched up the wadded money and counted each crisp dollar bill.  "George Washington.  Buddy, where have you been?"

The game came to its close and Eric Snow and Allen Iverson entered into the center of the circle that was the unstoppable 76ers.  Lucas changed the channel in their modest family home in the suburbs of Philly and clicked onto Animal Planet where Steve Irwin stood tormenting what he told them was the most venomous snake on the planet.  

"That game," he said, chucking a Nerf football to Nora, "was clutch."

"Clutch?" She caught the ball in a cradle before throwing it back to him.  "Are you bogarting words from Leo again?"

Lucas laughed. "Hey, no sour grapes.  You missed the boat on 'clutch' and 'hot' weeks ago.  It's not my fault you still think everything's 'awesome.'"

Nora picked popcorn off the seats and popped it into her mouth.  "Remember back when you used to say 'killer'?" she joked, plopping down next to him.  "And 'aight'?"

"Take a valium.  We all used those words," Lucas said over the sound of the heavy rain that had been pelting their rooftop for hours.

"Too bad we never got it on tape.  My future nieces and nephews would have loved it."

Lucas playfully bounced a piece of Orvil Reddenbocker's off her shoulder.  "Yeah, just wait until I hold a public showing of that home movie of you with a week's worth of spaghetti shoved up your nose." 

Feigning shock, his sister threw a handful of popcorn his way, showering him in kernels.  "Uh-oh, Lukie's in trouble," she said, screaming lightly as he grabbed her from behind and swung her around by her middle.

Putting her down, Lucas watched as his twin sister brought the popcorn bowl back into the kitchen.  "Hey, Leo's having a barbeque tomorrow.  The band's gonna play.  You want to come?"

"Leo and the band."  Rolling her eyes, Nora opened their shade and peered out through the window. "Yeah, I'll go.  If this rain ever lets-" 

A sudden crunch of brush sounded right outside her kitchen window.  She stopped and slowly backed away from the counter.


	3. Prepared for Combat

Nora's voice fell to a whisper. "Luke, get in here."

The fear that struck his sister caused Lucas to jump to his feet.  "Talk to me.  What's happening?" he demanded, moving quickly into the kitchen.  When he joined her side, he saw them.   A company of interlopers, crawling through their lawn with their weapons at the ready.

His eyes were saucers.  "Holy-"

"Shit, I know," Nora finished.

Moving to action, Lucas grabbed her by the arm.  "Into the living room."  Obediently, she hurriedly followed him into the next room, where he locked the door behind them.

Peeking through the blinds, Nora's face went deathly white.  "Oh God.  It's happening," she whispered.

"Go get the bags," Lucas ordered as he heaved back the couch against the door as a barrier.  

Nora's bare feet jumped and took off into her bedroom.  Knocking over boxes and chairs, the seventeen-year-old reached under her bed, grabbed two bulging backpacks, and while forcing on sneakers dashed back to her brother.

Ever since the attack on the president, the twins had been in the midst of preparation, on that chance that they should ever be discovered.  After months of endless rehearsal, she should have felt calm.  She should have felt poised.  But when Nora's eyes locked onto the shadows weaving their way closer and closer to their one-story Suburban home, she froze in place.  

"It's happening," she repeated.  Her eyes darted this way and that, trying to count them.  "I'm not ready for this."

Watching her, Lucas ignored the camouflaged men infiltrating their backyard and focused solely on his twin sister.  "Nora, don't you quit on me."

"They're everywhere," she whispered, trembling.  The pounding on the door and the muffled shouts made her scream.

Lucas took Nora by the shoulders, so she could only look up at him.  "We can do this," he said, shaking her to break her fright.  "It's just like we've practiced.  Don't let me down."

When he looked into his sister wide green eyes, Lucas knew exactly how Nora felt, and she was right.  It was nothing like they had practiced.

"Nora, who are you?" he asked.

She looked up into her brother's eyes.  "I'm Artemis."

"That's right.  You're an archer.  You're a hunter.  Villages feared you.  You don't back down."  His voice softened as men bashed down their front door, only two rooms away.  "We're fighters, Nora.  We were born for this."  Hugging her tightly, he kissed her hard the side of her forehead.  "I love you.   Don't stop for anything."  

"I love you, too," she said, made brave by her twin brother's words.  "Take the car."

"And you take the van."  Lucas watched the door with squinted eyes as heat and electricity grew between the palms of his hands.  "I'll meet you there."

Two years ago, the Blaize twins had learned of their supernatural ability.  Both were able to create and maneuver strange swirling concentrations of red-hot energy between the tips of their fingers.  Where it came from or why, neither were sure.  Nora was born to control the electricity the energy gave off while Lucas controlled the heat that the same power granted them.  And their abilities didn't stop there.  They could also produce small force fields, which could either protect or destroy, depending on how they were used.  They relied on these fields from each other, along with their acute awareness that came from sharing a womb.  Alone, they would have little way of protecting themselves, but together they were unstoppable.

Alongside of her brother, Nora widened the radius between her hands where a swirling orb of electricity, light, and wind floated in balance.  Unaware of how it would be used, unaware of the changes its carrier's life would endure.

The doors burst down in a cloud of smoke and gunfire.  With a war cry, Lucas threw a pulsating red sphere into the clan of soldiers, sending the closest few flying backwards from the impact.

With a gasp, Nora used her left hand to hold a force field around her brother.  "Behind you!" she shouted in a voice that didn't sound like her own.  Protected by his sister, the darts aimed at his skin ricocheted and skidded off an invisible field encircling his toned, muscular body.

Behind the walls, her parents were quieted by chloroform, and the same bearers of the drug dove at Nora.  Glaring, she pressed her palms forward sending a circling wave of light blue energy into her oppressors, propelling them through the front bay window and into the flowerbeds she had planted last spring.

While he fought, Lucas secured his force field around his sister and swung his arm to throw another bolt of electricity into the nearest soldier, who went flying backward through the wall into their kitchen stove.

Fighting alongside her brother, the protection around her only shone all the more brightly.  Gymnastic classes not wasted on her, the agile mutant did a back flip.  When a fighter fired his weapon at her, she fell into a straddle and locked her force field around him, causing the darts to slam against the insides of the shield's translucent walls and sink deep into the soldier's skin.

Lucas tossed her the backpack, which she caught in midair.  "Go!" he ordered forcefully.  He contorted left, right, up, and down with his hands – the stream of power causing a red web to form above him just as quickly as it disappeared.

Against the shouts of the soldiers and the sound of ironclad uniforms shattering throughout their home, she held a force field on and off her twin brother in between his blasts of energy.  When she was able, Nora jumped through a hole where a bay window had once been and chugged through the heavy down pour of rain toward their family's Ford Windstar.  She was cut off by a dart that would have hit her shoulder if not for her brother's sudden protective cocoon.

Lucas didn't have to scream his thoughts. Nora felt their impact all the same.  _Do it!  I've got you. _ His swirling red force field weaving itself around her, she tore across the front yard and triumphantly threw back the door of the family's van.  Three-pronged darts pierced against the vehicle's aqua exterior, but not into her skin.__

"Get out of here!  Drive!"  Inside the house, Lucas' voice cracked as he shouted. As the mutant scorched into each approaching soldier and held force fields around others just before they fired, he sensed Nora starting up the car and plowing down two unfortunate attackers underneath the weight of her wheels.  

_Good girl! _he thought, knowing she felt his inner joy at her escape.

Just like they planned, Nora drove off, tires squealing into the stormy night.  She kept her force field around Lucas' body as she rounded the corner and took to the expressway, aware of her twin's position and stance at all times.  She would still be able to help him, but her power could only hold for so long.

Assured that his sister was away, Lucas glared down at what few remaining soldiers stood in his way.  He opened his hands, causing a red stream of energy to illuminate his vengeful face behind his flickering blue force field.

"You," he rasped to them hatefully, "are going to regret that you ever came to this house."

The shield dissipated, and Lucas bounded into action.  To the troops, he was everywhere at once, behind them, in front of them, away from them.  The energy, stronger than ever before, forged a clean path through a screaming soldier's chest and the back living room wall.  Pushing his hands together, he smashed two others through the boards of his house and watched them land with a 'thud' onto his front lawn.  His next blow hit a man in the neck, and he brought around that same hand to slam a stream of energy right into the center of another's disbelieving face.

When no others came, his smoking, empty hands rested themselves on his knees, and Lucas listened to the sound of his breath wheezing in and out of his chest.

The silence took him by surprise.

Rejuvenated, Lucas scooped up his Nike Sports bag, took to his feet, and bolted from inside the house to his driveway where his yellow '66 Mustang awaited.  The car started with the reliability of a mint condition Ferrari, and back tires squealing, he raced through the pouring rain and around the corner on two wheels.

He weighed his foot down on the gas petal and flicked open his cell phone with his free hand.

If he hurried, he could catch up with his sister before she left the freeway.


	4. No Longer Hidden

"Jesus…"

One of the few soldiers Lexin Grey had positioned in the bushes put a hand to cover his widely gaping mouth as he watched his allies fight and die right before his eyes at the hand of the mutant.

Another next to him – Williams, Lexin thought his name was – suddenly took to his feet and clicked back his rifle.  "I'm not going to watch this.  We're getting them out of there."

Lexin Grey instantly held out a strong arm across the soldier's chest.  "No," he said, staring forward intently.

Fury twisted within the adamant soldier at the outrageous order.  "No _mutant,_" he said the word like it was a disease, like it was a patch of boils festering underneath his tongue, "is going to take the lives of my platoon."  He pointed his rifle to the vicious scene.  "No hot-headed kid with a chip on his shoulder is going to take those extraordinary men and women away from their friends, their families-"

"No one can save them."  His voice was a cold contrast to William's.  "You go out there, soldier, and you will die among them."

During any other time, the anguish welling up within the massive man's enraged face would have seemed out of place, almost comical.  Lexin turned away, seemingly unmoved by the tortured man before him.

But Lexin understood the man's pain all too well.  He had endured it himself, and like any survivor, it had made him stronger, stronger than he could have possibly imagined.

Abundant as it was, his strength would never be fierce enough to bring down the full population of mutants.  He knew that and had begrudgingly come to accept it.   But his force would take down some, perhaps even enough to begin the massacre of their entire wretched race and bring an end to the controversy.

Lexin was not a comforting man, but his voice did soften when he confronted the soldier before him.  "When we get to the campsite.  When we capture them, you will be the first of these men to confront that mutant."  For a brief moment, their eyes met. "You will be the first to show him exactly how extraordinary those soldiers out there were."

Williams shook ever so slightly as he held his rifle, wishing it was something cruder, more primitive, like an heavy ax or hatchet.

"You will be the first," Lexin Grey said with a dignity beyond his years, "to show that mutant the superiority of your ancestors and the reason we have been the dominant race on this planet since the dawn of our existence."

When the faded yellow Mustang raced off into the stormy night, the troops went to work, collecting the dead, reviving the unconscious, and removing any proof of their existence.

Officer Lexin Grey, Williams, and the twelve remaining soldiers were miles from the house when the police zoomed in from their station fifteen minutes later.  

Only an hour after their departure, a new rookie cop on the force carefully loomed bright yellow tape labeled "crime scene" around the oak trees in the Blaizes' front yard and strained to listen to the newscast that would soon reach every home in America.

"I'm here live at 1372 Port Terrace where tonight tragedy has struck an East Philadelphia home.  Behind me," newscaster Pat Chirachy proclaimed with an outstretched palm, "lies the remains of yet another mutant-related attack.  At two 'o clock this morning, intruders broke into the quiet Surburban home, destroying everything in their path.  Though police have yet to confirm the names of the mutants suspected in this assault, they are looking for the twin children of this home, Lucas and Nora Blaize, who are believed to have been kidnapped during the night."  

She paused suddenly, both to show respect for the unfortunate occurrence and to let their smiling high school photographs flash onto the screen.  

"It is believed that the kidnappers stole the vehicles from their home, a 1966 yellow Mustang and a pale blue 2003 Ford Windstar.  A local search party has begun here in East Philadelphia, and police have told us that if anyone has any information on the whereabouts of Lucas or Nora Blaize to call this number on your screen."   

The young cop watching shook his head sadly and went to see if the police had found any other evidence on the bastards responsible.

"The KYW news team will be updating you throughout the day and night as we discover the details of this heartbreaking case.  This is Pat Chirachy in East Philadelphia.  Back to you, Kent."


	5. One Hell of a Team

Nora knew even before she heard Beethoven's Fifth ring out from her cell phone.

Lucas had survived.  

An uninhibited grin stretched wide across her cheeks, flushed from battle.  "Apollo?"

Lucas panted in his relief, smiling as his sleek Mustang cut through the heavy torrents of rain.  "They're done, Art," he said proudly into his tiger-striped Nokia.  "They're done.  They're never coming back."

Nora felt an electric, ecstatic feeling burst inside of her.  She threw back her rain-drenched head in a long, shrill scream to release the energy, drunk off her exertion.  There was no need to hold back, Lucas felt it all the same.  She beamed so hard it hurt.  They had escaped.  They were free.  They weren't going to be killed.

"We won.  We beat 'em," he said, his muscles aching.

Suddenly, a calmer, more serious sensation struck her.  She held the cell phone hard against her ear.  "You don't think they're following us, do you?"

"No way."  He sounded so sure of himself that Nora allowed herself to be comforted.  "Not a chance in the world.  We trashed them.  They don't even know what hit them.  They're still combing the front yard for their back molars."

Nora felt apart from time and space.  She couldn't believe that she was talking to him.  She couldn't believe that they had survived.  

Her voice quivered over the line.  "For a minute, I thought…" Nora swallowed.  "I thought we were-"

"I know you did," Lucas replied in a somber voice.  "But we're not.  They can't touch us.  And even if they could, after what we proved we're capable of they wouldn't even try."

Navigating the road in front of her, Nora searched her brother's thoughts.  "They hurt you," she said abruptly.

"It's nothing." Lucas smiled wanly, thankful to have his sister's concern.  "Just a few bumps and bruises.  Nothing that won't heal overnight."

"I take this exit?" she asked, leaning the car to the left.

"Yeah."  During their conversation, his Mustang had easily caught up to the family van.  "Yeah, take it."  Her left blinker predictably began to flicker, and they shifted in formation onto the exit ramp.  "We keep to back roads from here on in, got it?"

"Got it." A long, comfortable silence stretched between the twins.  "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Hey.  Whoa.  The last thing I need is for you to get misty on me, nerd," Lucas ordered in jest.  He laughed a little.  It hurt his chest. "But, yeah.  I'm glad you're okay, too."

Nora smiled. "It was a good plan."

"It was a great plan."

She arched her neck to survey the wooded area surrounding her van.  "I think I can remember the way from here.  I'm gonna shut off."

"You do that," he said, staring past rows and rows of Suburban houses so much like theirs had once been.  They were quiet and secluded, a sanctuary from the dangers out of the outside world.

Now, Lucas knew better.  "I'll call you in an hour," he promised.

"Okay, Luke."

He spoke quickly to catch her.  "Hey, Art?"

Nora fumbled to secure the phone against her ear.  "Yeah?"

Her brother's voice rang with respect.  "You and me.  We make one hell of a team."

"Yeah, we do."  She smiled warmly, as she realized just how truthful the statement.  "Always have." 

Lucas laughed gently.  "Alright, Artemis.  Be good."  He clicked off the phone and let a solid smile crease across his face.  They had done it.  Together, they had defeated their enemies.

Taking a pause, Lucas wiped thick beads of sweat off of his forehead and heaved a tired sigh.  It was the weary hour of 3 a.m., and they still had two and a half hours of driving before they reached the campsite at Carmel's Pond.

Blinking a set of exhausted eyes, he popped open a can of Red Bull from his bag and chugged down half of its fluorescent green contents.  Lucas studied the can against the rain-washed windshield and smirked.  

If he ever needed the "wings" promised by the power drink's ad, it was now.


	6. The Xmen Respond

Logan gave an irritated sigh as he sped his Harley through the dense forest terrain that surrounded him.

"Okay, bub, that's the third time we passed that tree.  Are you sure we're going the right way?" he demanded into his communicator.  Wolverine, void of a helmet or any protective gear whatsoever, swerved his Harley beside Scott's recently waxed Porsche 911 Carrera Turbo, a careful purchase made the week before.

"I checked the map twice before we left," Scott said intolerantly.  He made a sharp right onto an unpaved road cut between the jagged mountains of Northern Pennsylvania.  "And Storm just confirmed that they were heading in our direction."

Wolverine heaved a low growl, but decided not to argue.  Normally, Logan would have serenely smirked before pulling a fancy trick on the motorcycle that technically didn't belong to him, or reminded Cyclops of any number of embarrassing instances from the past.  His terrible landing on Liberty Island.  His inability to keep track of any of his motor vehicles.  How he looked more like a model for GQ than he ever would a 'cyclops.'

But ever since Alkali Lake, things had been different.  Jean and the selfless way she left them had sent a shadow of grief over the entire school, and no one, not even Wolverine, felt her absence as deeply as Scott.  The rest of them – Storm, Nightcrawler, Rogue and Iceman, and the Professor – treated him gingerly because they wanted to convey their sympathy and concern for him.  Logan harassed him less for different reasons.  

Cyclops had bottled up all his love, all his hate, anger, grief, and regret deep within his being to a place he refused to revisit.  He didn't sleep.  He spent less and less time among them, preferring late night rides on his motorcycle to friendly company – as if smiling or laughing without Jean there would mean he wasn't miserable.  It would only be a matter of time before he exploded under the pressure, and when he did, Logan wanted to be nowhere near.

He held to this practice for several reasons.  Though Jean was gone, while she was on earth, she had made her commitment to Scott exceedingly clear.  The last thing he wanted was to cause Scott any more pain than he already had to endure.  She would not approve, and if it was the only service left for Logan to provide for her, he would.  

But most importantly, Logan couldn't think of a worse candidate for Scott to break down in front of than himself.

The unmistakable voice of Kurt Wagner came over the intercom, shirking Logan from his thoughts.  "You should have taken somevun else."

High above them in the navigator's seat of the X-Jet, there was a hint of fear in Kurt's tone.  "I vill only schare zem off," he said, referring to the kidnapped children that would be present.

With Kurt, Scott displayed a contrasting patience.  "I wouldn't worry about it.  We always scare them off at first."

The smooth voice of the Ororo Monroe had a hint of banter as she came on over a frequency inside the Porsche.  "Especially Logan and those charming sideburns of his."

Smirking, Wolverine deftly navigated the dirt roads before him, which were terribly unfit for a motorcycle.  "And throwing bolts of lightning with those albino eyes of yours is less frightening?" he challenged.

"Just keep you eyes open for those kids," she told him.  "Or I'll direct one with your name on it right onto that Harley you're riding."

Scott offered an appreciative smile that Ororo didn't see and responded back to Kurt. "Besides," he told him.  "We'll need your skills."  The destroyed house in the background of the newscast flashed in front of his mind.  "We still don't know exactly what happened in Philadelphia."

Kurt's head bobbed up and down, understanding what that meant.  Preoccupied, he bit his lip.  What if he missed?  What if they attacked?  What if he couldn't protect himself or his friends?  

Out of habit, he reached into his pocket to grasp his unique, well-worn rosary beads for comfort.  He needed to learn to trust himself, and he needed to trust Him if he was ever going to use his abilities for the good of his savior.

Glancing over at Nightcrawler, Storm placed a soft hand on his forearm, shirking him out of prayer.

"It'll be fine," she quietly reassured him.

At the simple gesture, his tail flipped, and Nightcrawler sent her back a teethy grin that made her smile affectionately.

Just then, Storm's trained eyes spotted the two vehicles they had been searching for from the X-Jet. 

"Okay, I've got them," she said suddenly.  "A yellow sports car and a Ford van just made a right turn off the road about two miles in front of you."

Logan looked over to Cyclops through the Porsche's side window.  "Let's move."

Focusing on the road in front of him, Scott Summers sped after them, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.  The 911 Carrera Turbo could go up to 180 miles per hour and handled like a dream.  But the mutants had proven themselves to be more then ready for battle, and the Blaize twins were frightened teenagers whose movements would be unpredictable.

He accelerated forward, leaving Storm above him and Wolverine a few paces behind.  If he hurried, he could reach them before any more damage was done.


	7. Lost and Found

Only when Nora saw the sun peek above the distant mountain horizon did she understand how long she had been driving.  The orange sun shone masterfully, proving that the endless rain that had plagued them all night had finally stopped.  

A tired smile spread across her olive face as she glanced upward to her brother in the rear-view mirror, rocking out to a classic rock band, probably Van Halen, to help himself stay awake.  Feeling strangely contented, she opened the sunroof to let the daylight warm her shoulders.  

She considered the suddenly clear weather appropriate, for they were finally about to reach the campsite that would become their refuge.

It was lucky that Lucas could sense his sister's need to talk with him, or he never would have heard his cell phone ringing over the thunderously loud guitar riffs of Van Halen's 'Ice-cream Man.'

"Lucas Blaize's Mustang Flat of Rock and Roll," he shrieked into the phone, in a fair impression of Aerosmith's Steven Tyler.   "How may I disturb you?"

Nora held the phone away from her ear.  "Ugh.  Do you ever stop disturbing me?"  Lucas laughed, pleased by her response.  "The band would be proud."

"Cube Steak will always be with me in spirit," he said.  

Cube Steak, a hard rock band started by a group of teenage boys in their neighborhood, on a normal afternoon could be heard blasting their guitars from any number of local garages.  Ordinarily, Nora would have supported such a tribute to classic rock as she herself was a diehard fan.  Unfortunately, it was the worst music she had ever heard in her entire life, and the whole town agreed.  During the summer months, Nora spent her time avoiding them as often as possible.

"Hey, Luke?"

Her brother's voice returned to normal. "Yeah?"

"How long are we going to stay here?" she asked, bouncing lightly as the van tread over back roads that looked to have been perfectly designed for an SUV commercial.

"I don't know.  Three weeks, a month," he conjectured, following closely behind the Ford van.  "Just until things get quiet."

"Wow."  Nora hadn't realized.

"A small price to pay," he reminded her.  "Good thing I worked all those overtime hours at Gonda's."

Inwardly, Nora tried to imagine a month.  Thirty days, possibly more, away from their family and friends in Philly.  She bit her lip, beginning to drive on autopilot.  She wondered if they would be found.  Her parents, though not incredibly close to the twins, loved them very much.  They would keep looking.

It was as if her brother had read her mind.  "Once the search stops, we can go back to mom and dad," he said.  He kept talking when she kept silent.  "It won't ever be the same, but at least they'll know we're safe."

The thought didn't upset Nora as much as it should have.  Though they would be missed, her parents came second.  What was most important was that she still had her twin brother.

"Hey, hey, don't miss that turn!"

With a gasp, Nora skidded along the road and barely maneuvered the van around a patch of roots.  "Jesus," she breathed once aligned with the mountain path.

"That's it.  I'm calling Nascar tomorrow," he taunted in the harmless way brothers do.  "We've got ourselves a speed-racer."

"Shut up," she shot back, smirking. 

"See?  It's dangerous to drive with cell phones."

Nora growled.  "This thing's got reverse, you know."

Lucas decided not to push it further and then brightened as a familiar cabin came into the view.  "There it is."

The small log cabin was an icon from Lucas and Nora's childhood memories.  A light-brown creamy exterior greeted them, designed perfectly to reflect the various yellow beams of sunlight shining down through the lush canopy above. 

When the twins entered into adolescence, the small cabin had been forgotten, destined to remain just a faint memory in their minds.  But Nora and Lucas had needed a hideout, a safe house if their plan was going to work, and their old family campsite was called upon once more.  

The twins contentedly took in the picturesque scene as they exited their cars and stretched their legs, stiff from travel.  In their childhood the four-room house, hidden behind thick layers of forest, had secluded them from the outside world.  In these drastic circumstances, it would serve them one more time.

But there were so many things they hadn't prepared for.  Where would they shop for their groceries?  Was there a gas station nearby?  Could they even chance to be seen in public with their parents looking for them so feverishly? 

Lucas sent a reassuring smile to his sister, which she wearily returned.  Their thoughts were in sync.  They had each other.  It would be alright.

"I'll get the bags," he told her and turned back to his Mustang.

Nora stretched her arms upward and jauntily crossed them as she continued to study the building, already trying to find ways to make it more their own.  Maybe they could hook up a stereo system outside.  The sudden thought ultimately caused Nora to frown.  Unfortunately, any backyard parties held in their campsite would never have guests.  

Sighing, she started toward the cabin.  Oh, well.  Maybe they could have rock sessions with the beavers.  Lucas would approve.

When she was halfway across the yard, she stopped in her tracks.  Her senses heightened, and she felt the distinct sensation that they were being watched.

Her skin crawled, and the hair on her arms stood on end.

"Something's wrong," she said out loud, causing her brother to pause in his steps from the car.

Then, she saw him.  A pair of beady eyes shone out through the foliage.

There was no time to prepare.  Nora took in a terrified gasp and screamed shrilly as a barrage of darts fired at her from every direction, "LUCAS!"

It was over.  They'd found them.


	8. Ambushed

Sorry about the cliffy!  I know this next chapter doesn't fix everything, but it helps, ne? ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the last possible second, a familiar red film encompassed Nora, protecting her as she fell to the ground.

Lucas, who was close enough to the Mustang to roll underneath of it for cover, jumped to his feet, thankfully unscathed, and immediately rushed to his sister.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, twisting her around to check her for injuries.  "Are you alright?"

The soldiers had already reloaded before she could answer.  Their movements in sync, the twins instantly shielded each other and ran for cover, once again rendering all the soldiers' perfectly aimed ammunition useless.

"Shit," Nora spit out from behind the force field.  She caught her breath as she leaned in against the side of the Mustang, which proved a worthy makeshift barricade.  "Shit!" she screamed all the louder as she fully realized the awful circumstances of their situation.

Lucas reacted much more calmly than his sister.  He darted his eyes, surveying the area, assessing the situation.  There were too many.  Eventually, no matter how constantly they defended each other, they would be hit.  Their shields had to come down when they fired.  With every offense move they made, they opened themselves up to disaster.

"They have the upper hand," he observed.  His voice was strangely detached, like he was watching an action thriller, trying to figure out how the hero was going to win.

Nora barely heard her brother's statement.  She began to quake as her wrath reached its peak.  They had never been safe.  The same people had been tracking them all along.  Anger flashed across her face as she watched the soldiers proudly emerging from behind the foliage.

"C'mon, Luke," she whispered through her teeth.  "We did it once." Her hands glowed brightly, birthing energy between them.  "We'll do it again."

Lucas breathed deeply and closed his eyes as made his decision.  _No, _he thought softly.

Without asking, he grabbed her harshly by the arm, so hard it hurt.  Before he even explained what he was doing, he dragged her across the yard to the van through the barrage of gunfire, shooting red energy from his free hand into the camouflaged humans.

Nora gave a sudden scream at his lack of warning.  "Luke!"  Her eyes widened as she struggled to gain her footing.  "Luke, what are you doing?!"

When they were safely behind the van, Lucas threw open the door and pointed inside.  "Get in," he ordered. 

Horrified, Nora shirked out of his grasp.  "What?! You can't fight them yourself!"  Behind them, dozens of soldiers sporadically shot forth from their hiding places.  There were far more attacking them.  It wasn't like before.

"I'm not giving you a choice," he shouted to her vehemently.

Nora spared a second to frown at him defiantly.  "I'll be damned if I'm leaving you."  She pulled away from her brother and gritted her teeth as powerful blue light surged forth from her open palms.

Groaning loudly in frustration, Lucas snatched her around her middle and into the driver's seat of the van in one fluid motion.

Nora fell into a heap against the console.  "What the!  Luke!"  The door slammed in her face, and her brother pushed his hands against the outside of her car.  Both his palms and the outside metal glowed a deep red as he melded the door and car frame together. 

Nora tried forcing the handle, then kicking down the door, but her brother had effectively trapped her.  Anger at his sudden actions gripped her. "Let me out of here!" she shouted fiercely.

"Go!"  Frowning, he pounded his foot against the door for effect.  Eyeing the approaching troops, his teeth clenched as he aimed and fired into the nearest of the forces.  "I'll follow you!"

A second bombardment of metal darts shattered against her back windshield and shocked Nora into action.  Her white knuckles pressed against the ignition, and the Windstar revved to life.  Glaring at her oppressors, she suddenly swerved backwards into reverse and smirked triumphantly at the soldiers' surprised faces and hurried movements.  Her brother's red bolts of energy plowed into each startled soldier as they scrambled to move out of her path.

_That's what you get, bastards.  _She frowned fitfully as she watched them rush out of her way.  _Don't mess with Artemis and Apollo._

She jerked the wheel as far to the right as it could go, clearing a path free of soldiers to her brother's Mustang.  Ignoring the distinctive bulge of a body underneath of her tires, she changed gears and skidded forward back down the twisting mountain path to make her get-away.

Even as she drove out of the campsite, her eyes remained locked on her brother's form in the rear-view mirror.  Reaching out, she stretched her open palm behind her to protect him against the swarm of fighters still present.

In response to her careless driving, the entire car began to shake as she crunched the right side of the van alongside the edge of a group of pine trees.  Cursing in astonishment, Nora swung the bulky van back onto the road and steadied herself as she tore down the dirt path made uneven by the deep imprints of their tires.

But the obvious damage to the vehicle was her last concern.  She looked apprehensively back into her rear-view mirror, void of any trace of her brother.  

_C'mon, Luke. _ Her heart beat rapidly inside her chest as she tried to will his Mustang to peel out around the corner._  C'mon, get out of there._

So preoccupied was Nora with the safety of her brother that she didn't notice the speeding Harley Davidson or the Porsche Carrera Turbo coming down the road, heading straight in her direction.

* * * * *

The Ford Windstar came barreling out from the campground's exit nearly plowing down Wolverine and his Harley.  "Whoa!"  With wide eyes, he popped a wheelie and swerved out of her path, narrowly averting collision with the speeding family van.

Cyclops veered his Porsche off to the right just in time to see the van go shooting past them, swerving wildly all over the road.  The moment he saw the driver's frightened face, Nora's high school picture flashed across his mind. 

"It's the girl from the broadcast," he proclaimed, moving his Porsche to pull a U-turn straight out of a Batman movie.

Wolverine's face was a window to his annoyance.  "Nothing escapes you, does it, Cyclops?"  He quickly regained his footing on the motorcycle and took off after the retreating girl.  "Kurt, can you get them out of the car?" he demanded, as they began to close in on the damaged Windstar.

Kurt Wagner's voice was filled with anxiety.  "She es moving too fast."

Scott jostled his car this way and that as he tried to see inside the tinted windows of the van.  "Kurt's right.  He could go right through the windshield trying a move like that."  His voice teemed with authority.  "We'll have to move to Plan B."  

Logan arched an eyebrow. "We have a Plan B?"  That was something new.

"We do now," he said.  Scott slowed his speed, keeping a steady pace behind the van.

"You want to let me in on it?" Wolverine asked casually.

"She can't leave the road if it's blocked."  Scott looked to the communicator.  "Storm?"

"Already ten steps ahead of you."   They watched in silence as the silver X-Jet made a smooth landing less than a mile in front of them.

Watching the aqua van receding into the distance, Scott swerved his Porsche parallel to the road, and Logan followed suit, burning a black trail of tar behind his wheels as the motorcycle came to a sharp halt across the road.


	9. Crime & Punishment

Only when Nora's van left the campsite did Lucas begin to worry about the danger of his situation.  His arms ached, and sweat poured from his glands, drenching the front and back of his t-shirt as his palms burned red-hot energy into heavy, pulsating spheres.  He wasn't sure of the number he had killed; somewhere along the line the adolescent had lost count.   But for every one soldier he detained it seemed that three more hurried to take their place.

Lucas growled at them angrily as the troops slowly loomed closer and closer to his person.  Before at the house, his movement had been smooth and certain, melding naturally in tune with his sister's.  But away from Nora, his reactions had become erratic, tainted by his fatigue.  

At the very thought of his sister, he pushed himself to fight back harder, faster than he ever had in his entire life.  He could do this.  He knew he could still make it.  All had to do was get to the –

An exploding 'pop' sounded right beside to him, followed by another just like it, causing him to roll down onto the ground.  His twin sister's circular shield predictably appeared at the threat to his person, but their distance had grown.  It loomed about him weakly, threatening to break apart into smoke.  

Finding his feet, he shook the dirt from his hair and jumped back, quickly regaining his momentum.  But when he turned his gaze to see what had made the awful noise, he froze, disbelieving what his eyes were seeing.

The Mustang tilted wearily to one side, its left tires reduced to drooping slabs of rubber.

Lucas' broad shoulders shrunk as he felt his stomach drop down into his feet.

He had no way out.

His eyes falling to slits, he furiously threw red bolts of heat into as many of the soldiers as he could, determined to make a run for it.  

However, when he turned to make his escape, the fighters inexplicably parted, and a soldier fired what looked and sounded like a bazooka straight into his hands.

He gasped, letting out a loud scream as Nora's force field dissipated completely.  Something heavy and metal shot out from the huge weapon, pulled back his arms, and anchored him to the dirt floor.  Despite his grappling, the handcuffs held strong and a device attached to his wrists, forming a thick metal glove around each of his hands.

His breath coming out in grunts and gasps, Lucas paused in his struggle as a loaded rifle pinned his neck to the ground, and a stout solider with black paint covering his face bore down upon him.  "The handcuffs are made of an indestructible metal called edimantium.  Fire off anything, and you'll be learning to spoon peas into your mouth with your elbows."

At the threat, Lucas brazenly pounded his feet into the officer's shins, sending him face first into the gravel road.

A rifle broadsided his head and at Lucas' shout, at least a dozen more clicked backwards, warning him that another move like that could end in his death.  At first all he could hear were his own groans of pain, but soon the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunched from behind the cabin and up to his bleeding temple.  

Lucas' eyes followed polished black shoes up to tall strands of spiked blonde hair combed straight above a pair of murderous ice blue eyes.

Staring intimidatingly down upon the youth, Officer Lexin Grey frowned as he spoke.  "Lucas Blaize.  Seventeen years of age.  Twin sister to Nora Blaize, both of you born August 23, 1986."  On the other side of him, Williams leaned down to grab him by his sweat-drenched, brown hair.

"Mutant status confirmed," Lexin replied with a reserve that sent an intentional shiver up Lucas' spine. "June 2, 2001."

It took all of Lucas' strength to keep his hands from firing off inside their indestructible metal casing.  "You can't scare me," he said, revulsion cutting deep within his tone.

"We can do whatever we want," Williams told him.  He violently threw his head backwards onto the ground.  "Your body belongs to us now, mutant.  You've got no rights."

Lucas' eyes widened wildly.  "Get the fuck out of my face," he whispered in the most menacing tone he could muster.

With lightning fast reflexes, Williams' gun shot out from his side. "Careful, mutant.  You're just a walking ghost to me."

Glaring, Lucas heaved back and spit a mixture of blood and mucus into his face.  

Disgust was followed by rage.  Not even bothering to wipe his face, Williams pointed his gun into the adolescent's face and fired.  The shot would have killed him, but for a swift kick that sent the gun off course into the clear blue sky.

Lexin Grey, though he wanted nothing more than to watch the mutant reduced to a bloodstain on the ground, pointed to the teenager.  "Alive," he said simply.

Shaking with rage, it visibly took all of Williams' will power to step back and lower his weapon.

"However," Lexin said, squinting deeply into Lucas' eyes.  "You may explain to the mutant the consequences of his actions."

When the official turned his back on the boy, he ignored the gruesome sounds of fists punching into flesh and bone.  "Retrieve the girl," he told a second group of officers.

"Nora."  At Lucas' attempt to speak, Williams' fists pounded swiftly against his teeth.  The enormous man screamed something about the men who had been killed, about how they didn't deserve a death by his kind.  _Nora, _he thought as he felt his face quickly swelling.  _They're after you. _ Tears involuntarily flooded down his cheeks, burning against his growing bruises.  _Don't stop.  Whatever you do, don't stop…_

Through eyes that refused to focus, Lucas glimpsed the same officer that had calmly addressed him before walk back into his line of vision.  

Lexin studied the mutant as he endured his beating.  The boy gnashed his teeth, refusing to scream.  He was stronger than most, but that strength would only take him so far.  It was impressive, nonetheless.  Lexin made a mental note.  He would have to be watched.

He put up his hand in a gesture of authority.  "Enough."

Williams' was a man fixed on punishing the murderer before him, but he was also a man of discipline.  Leaning down, he spit with all his might back into the mutant's face.  Breathing heavily, he once again gained control of himself and lifted his hands away from Lucas' swollen, bleeding face.

Lexin squinted once more, watching the mutant shuddering from the pain encompassing his young form.  "Do not think our reaction too severe before you consider the fate of your counterpart." He reached into the inside of his uniform, retrieving a small glass vile. "Her punishment shall prove much more primitive."

When Lucas' expression showed the first true signs of horror, Lexin's held a disturbing kindness.  "I wouldn't worry," he said in the least reassuring voice Lucas had ever heard.  

Despite his loud and violent protests, the teenager was turned onto his stomach and held there by what felt like an entire army.  "When you have no conscious way of retaliating against your oppressors, you find ways of coping with captivity."  Lexin Grey unscrewed the cap of the vile and dropped three beads of liquid into the back of the mutant's neck, watching as it formed a small, perfectly circular crater into the edge of his hairline.

Within moments, Lucas slumped down onto the ground and stared blankly into the dirt that held his own sweat and blood.

Brushing off his slacks as he rose, Grey nodded to the soldiers, who quickly carried the mutant into a helicopter that had landed nearby.  

He smiled as the wind from the propellers blew back his hair.  As in all the others, a deep red glow set into the mutant's eyes and gleamed ominously from a distance.


	10. Crash

"Jesus Christ!"  Nora screeched as a biker sailed past her van and across the road on his back wheel.  Dodging the Harley, she overcompensated and swung into the opposite side of the highway, just missing the back wheels of a sporty Porsche Carrera Turbo.  Making a few animalistic noises, she wrestled the steering wheel, forcing the van back onto the right side of the road and away from oncoming traffic.

Once she gained control, Nora looked through her back window and felt her eyes widen.  The two vehicles had picked up their speed and were only inches away from her bumper.  She grinded her foot into the pedal, causing her motor to wail as it struggled to keep up with her commands.

Her face scrunched in puzzlement as she flew forward down the slick roads.  Who the hell were these people?The cops?  The FBI?   Pissed off campers?  Her suspicions scattered, but subsided as she watched the vehicles pause in their chase.  They inexplicably slowed to a stop and gradually faded into the distance.  Confused yet relieved by their lack of pursuit, she let out a deep breath, still shaking from her several close encounters with disaster.

_C'mon, girl.  Get it together,_ she ordered herself.  _These people don't run you.  Get a grip on yourself.  _

But there was nothing for her to grip onto.  She had no idea where she was going.  She hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours.  An entire friggin' legion of soldiers armed to the hilt had hunted them down and nearly killed them, twice..  Her poor driving skills were slowly turning her only means of transportation into a scrap pile.   She snuck a glance into her rear view mirror.  And still, there was no sign of Lucas or his Mustang.

She used her remaining energy to focus on her twin brother.  She could see him, fighting in the cabin's front yard, or so she pictured from the images his emotions lent her.  She frowned.  He should have been out by now.  He was losing; she could feel it.  Nora sent her force field to coat his body, to protect him against his enemies.

_Come on, Luke.  Come on, Lukie…_ she chanted over and over again in her mind as if mentally ordering him to escape could compel it to happen.

Though she felt her force field losing hold on him, her concern for him ended abruptly as the front of a colossal, gray jet aircraft broke into her line of vision.  She gave a shout of surprise and pushed all her weight onto the brake pedal.  The van leaned into a sudden stop and bounced her back into the seat like a human slingshot.

Nora's mouth hung open in astonishment.  

A jumbo jet had parked itself right across the road.

A barrage of questions shot through her mind with no answers to silence them.  She searched the plane for any familiar words or symbols, but there were none to be found.  Sitting there dumbfounded, Nora felt a familiar panic birth within the pit of her stomach.  

The jet and its occupants were here for her and for her brother.  By now, what had happened at the house was most likely public knowledge.  She imagined cops combing her front lawn, easily piecing together what had happened.  If some crazy underground militia could follow them, what was to say the police, the government, or even a news crew couldn't.

Which meant if they were following her, they also knew she was a mutant.  Frowning, Nora hurriedly backed up and turned her van back around the way she came.  The Windstar's speed hastened steadily as if growing with her every realization.  

Her brother had been a fool to send her away, and she had acted even more foolishly in allowing him to.  She headed back to the campground, determined to bring him back.  They had been wrong, she realized miserably. Their plan never could have worked.  They were up against more than they could have ever possibly imagined.

If Nora would have had time to fully contemplate her situation, she probably would have noticed that no one had come out of the jet to confront her, that no one had invaded her.  Instead, at the same moment her brother fell onto the ground, a piercing pain seared through her mind and colors flared before her eyes.  Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and she felt something awful happening to her.

It started with her wrists, but then she felt someone relentlessly hitting Lucas' face, his chest, his shoulders.  They weren't just attacking him.  Nora clenched her hands into the plush seat of the van.  They were trying, hoping to kill him.  

She writhed in her seat, disbelieving that anyone could ever embody so much hate, much less toward her twin brother.  Her foot off the pedal, the van lost its momentum and began to coast into the center of the highway.

When the road before her came into focus, she glimpsed a familiar motorcycle and sparkling red car blocking her path.

Confusion struck her, and then her brother's sudden, urgent warning.

He was calling her name.

The two drivers, one with shades and one without, were stepping out onto the asphalt and moving quickly toward her.

Her brother's voice implored her.  They were after her, he said.  They were after her, and he didn't want her to stop, not for anything.  Nora's eyes glowered as she focused on the determined faces of the men heading in her direction.

Glaring, she revved her engine and unbuckled her seatbelt.  They had terrorized her family, destroyed her house, tried to kill Lucas, and now, they had pushed her over the edge.  With newfound purpose, she stared forward. 

The bastards were going to get what they deserved.

Tires squealing, she pounded her foot down on the gas and barreled straight toward the Porsche that served her only obstacle.

Outside of his car, Scott Summers' face twisted as he stopped in his tracks.  "What is she…"

Nora was seconds from collision and showed no signs of stopping.

Scott's mouth dropped open.  "Oh my God."

"Get out of the way!"  Wolverine bellowed as he and Cyclops threw themselves off the road and into the brush.

Never letting her foot off of the pedal, Nora leaned into the door to let herself roll out onto the asphalt.

The van door buckled as she pushed down on the handle.  

She gasped.  Her brother.  The door.  

She went to slam on her brakes, but it was too late.  The vehicles collided, sending shards of grill and chrome blasting in all directions, like a colossal grenade created seventy times larger to combust all the more violently.

Nora never felt it.

Instead, strong blue arms clasped around her middle just before impact.


	11. Misunderstanding

In a light lingering puff of blue smoke, Kurt Wagner re-appeared inside the center of the X-jet with the teenager safely in his arms.  When Nightcrawler realized what the girl intended to do, he had acted within a nanosecond, immediately putting himself in harms way on the chance that the child could still be saved.  

He released a deep breath of relief as he looked down at the girl, whose heartbeat fluttered like a rabbit's against his chest.  He couldn't believe he had done it.  He couldn't believe they had survived!  Certainly, it was only by the grace of God that they had both escaped without injury.

Running over from the controls, Storm attentively looked both arrivals up and down.  "Are you alright?" she demanded, eyes wide with fear.

Kurt nodded, visibly shaken. "Ja," he said shortly.  Still holding his rosary beads, he reverentially made the sign of the cross over himself and the girl.  "Ja, ve are fine."

Shaking her head, Storm looked to Kurt in a mixture of relief and awe.

It was only then that the girl in his arms began to rouse, raising her head to gaze up into his face.

Kurt's blue features brightened at her sudden movements.  "Hello."  Smiling down upon her, he grandly lifted his chin and provided, "My name is Kurt Wagner-"

The girl's entire face conveyed her fear.  "Get off of me!" she growled.  Flexing her legs, she kicked into Nightcrawler's shoulders and out of his grasp, causing the gargoyle-like being to stagger backward in surprise.

Sharing a glance with Storm, Kurt regained his footing and tried hard not to show his disappointment at her unexpected reaction.  Though he was no stranger to rejection, it still pained him to see the girl so immediately repulsed by his frightening form.

"What happened?"  the teenager demanded.  Ignoring her savior, the girl swerved her greatly disoriented body in a choppy circle, taking in her new surroundings so quickly that she almost lost her balance.  "Where – How did I…"  Her voice rapidly became distressed.  "Where the hell am I?!"

Working to make eye contact with the girl, Storm opened her right palm.  "You need to calm down," she said in a soothing yet firm tone.  "You were transported."  Her other hand pointed to Kurt.  "By Kurt, from your van into this jet."

Delayed realization emerged across her face as her eyes locked onto Nightcrawler.   "Oh my God, you're a mutant."  Kurt Wagner jumped slightly at what he thought was an accusation.  Nora swiveled back to point to Storm.  "Are you one, too?  Are you a mutant?"

Her features tensing slightly, she strongly affirmed, "Yes.  We are both mutants."

The girl's face began to pale.  "Oh my God…"

A familiar fear brewed deep within Kurt at her allegations.  "V-ve mean you no harm," he tried to reassure her.

The girl's head shook back and forth.  "No, no, you don't understand.  You gotta help me.  You gotta help me."  Without preamble, the girl launched into a tirade, sputtering incoherently about a campsite, soldiers, her brother, condensing everything into disjointed words and phrases that to the unknowing listener were indecipherable.

Made alert by the girl's crazed behavior, Ororo Munroe tried in vain to grasp what she was trying to tell them, but was interrupted when Scott's hurried voice came on over her intercom.  "Storm, have you got her?"

Never taking her eyes off of the ranting, raving teenage girl, she answered back, "Yes, Kurt got her out in time."  

Hearing Cyclops' sigh of relief, Storm quickly asked, "Was there anyone else in the car?"

"No, she was alone."

"Then both of you should return to the jet," she whispered to them, watching the girl's wild eyes flashing as she spoke.  "She seems to be having a breakdown."

Greatly concerned, Kurt strived to read the meaning behind the teen's garbled words, but the more the girl spoke the more incomprehensible she became, never stopping to take a breath or explain herself.

"They got him," she finally ended.  Drained, she pointed to the windshield of the jet that served as a window to the outside.  "They took him.  You have to-"

"You must slow down," he interjected urgently, gently putting up his hands.  "Ve cannot understand vhat you are saying."  His face relayed his great compassion for her situation.  "Ve vant to help you, but please, you must shpeak clearly."

Anger traced her angular features.  "Y-you didn't…?  Christ, weren't you listening to a word I said?!" she returned, waving her arms around uncontrollably.  "They tried to kill him!  They…"

Wanting nothing more than to understand her, he pleaded with her, "Who?  Tell me.  Who are zey trying to kill?"

At his comment, her hands formed into rigid shaking fists, and muttering something under her breath, she rudely shoved past him.  "Forget it, just forget it," she spit out in a frenzy.  "How do I get out of here?"  Becoming upset, she feverishly searched the sides of the jet for an exit.

Kurt's bottom lip leaned downward at the thought of releasing the girl back onto the open highway.  "I do not think-"

"Tell me!" she shouted back threateningly, pounding a fist into the metal wall of the jet.  "How do I get out of here?  Tell me!"

"It is not safe," Nightcrawler stressed, standing directly in her path to block her.  "Please, you must-"

Her entire being quivered. "If you don't let me out of here, I swear to God…"

As if her warning had been suddenly headed, daylight broke into the jet followed by the swift sound of a ramp being lowered to the ground.

Taking her chance, the girl broke into a run, but was immediately caught around the middle by Nightcrawler.  "Don't-"

She didn't let him finish.  Pushing up from the ground, she heaved back and punched him across the face, causing him to release her and stumble to the side.  Ignoring his cry of pain, she ducked past him and ran for the exit.

She was almost halfway down the ramp when she ran face first into the front of a plaid shirt and toppled backward from the unanticipated force of the blow.

Before she had a chance to find her wits, the man next to the plaid shirt shouted, "Logan, hold her!" and he obeyed, effortlessly lifting her up and pinning her arms at her sides.


	12. An Odd Sense of Comfort

The entire time Nora had been trying to explain herself, she had felt it happening.  

Her brother was gone, miles away from the campsite before she had even gotten past the blue gargoyle.  Luke had been strong, but the brawl had lasted only a few short moments, ultimately ending in his detainment and capture.

Though guilt at her own escape had gripped her, Nora hadn't lashed out because she had lost all hope.  There was much hope to be had; somehow her brother had survived.  For some reason, they wanted him alive.  While the thought did bring her an odd sense of comfort, something else had happened to cause her to move into her frenzy.

Ever since she could remember, Nora had possessed a distinct awareness of Lucas, as if a small part of her mind was saved just for him – to know where he was at all times.  After the battle, after he had forced her to escape, that connection had been severed.  Through some series of events, Lucas had vanished from her mind, like a ship off of radar.  

His aggressors had taken something from him, something awful, and for the first time in her life, Nora felt a true and righteous hate brew within her toward those responsible.

Unfortunately, it was the X-Men and not Lucas' kidnappers who felt the full brunt of her immediate fury.

Cursing, she kicked and thrashed with all her might, causing her brown hair to fall chaotically about her face.  "Get off me," she growled, just like she knew her twin brother would have.  "I'm warning you. You won't like what happens if you don't."

Behind her, Logan gave an audible grunt as he held his arms firmly around her upper body, demonstrating only a portion of his endurance.  "Just relax, kid," he told her as she struggled futilely against him.  "Nobody here wants to hurt you."

The man with strange red sunglasses stood before her and spoke in the same tone the woman with the white hair had moments before.  "We only want to talk to you," he assured her.  "We just want to know what happened."

Emerging from the X-Jet, Storm joined them along with Nightcrawler who gingerly nursed the side of his face with his hand.  "We tried asking her, but she was too upset to speak clearly," she explained to Cyclops.

Nora panted in her exertion, beginning to realize that there was no physical way for her to break free from the man holding her.  "Come on," she begged in a whimper as her fists hit uselessly into Logan's sides.  "C'mon, just let me go…"

Not a man known for his enduring patience, Wolverine rolled his eyes.  "You gotta calm down first, kid.  You do that, and we'll talk."

Hearing the same order once more, Nora felt her anger come rushing back and all aspects of her tolerance disappear.  "I am not.  Going.  To Calm.  Down!" she suddenly exploded.  Gathering what last remnants of her strength remained, she held her hands apart from each other and ignited a blinding blue spark of energy between them. 

His eyes going wide, Logan gave a short "whoa" and predictably withdrew his arms.

Breaking out of his grasp, Nora loomed her arms outward, displaying her power as vehemently as possible.  Her small stunt caused all of them to back away from her, and not knowing how long she could keep the light in her hands burning, she used the leverage for all it was worth.  

"Don't get near me!" she shouted in a voice made hoarse by exhaustion.  "Don't get near me.  I'll use it!  I swear!"

A sudden understanding coursed through Cyclops as he watched the power swell between the teenager's hands.  She was a mutant.  Of course… He let out a deep sigh, wishing they could have recognized it sooner.  

She stood before them, her hands trembling fearfully as they held the electric energy between them.  "Just stay back…" she pleaded.

"Nora?" Cyclops ventured, remembering the name from the newscast.

It had its desired effect.  Hearing her name, Nora froze in her position, shocked to attention.

He took a step forward ever so cautiously, putting up both his hands to show that he still meant her no harm.  "We heard on the news about the attack on your house," he calmly told her.  "And that you and your brother were missing."

At the mention of Lucas, her ferocity visibly lessened.  It was for his sake that she allowed Cyclops to continue.

"We heard that there were mutants involved.  We came to find you because we thought you might be in danger."  When she didn't shirk from her position, he continued, "We're mutants, too, Nora.  We just want to help you.  You and your brother."

Nora bit her lip.  "But I can't find him," she told Cyclops in a quivering voice.  "They took Luke.  I don't know where he is."

Lucas Blaize.  For a moment, guilt overtook him. He'd already been taken.  They'd been too late.

But he still had Nora.  He took a deep breath, striving to reach her.  "We don't know who took your brother," he admitted to her.  "But if you give us a chance, I promise you we will do everything in our power to help bring him back."

At the very idea of recovering her lost brother, Nora's hands broke apart from each other, causing the blue light to slowly dissipate into the air.

"We'll do everything we can," he said.  "But it's you who has to give us that chance."

Tears welling up in her eyes, her face scrunched in anguish as she found herself unable to hold back any longer.  "I just don't want to fight anymore," she got out between her tears.

"It's okay," Scott said.  "It's okay.  You don't have to."

As he moved towards her, she felt her legs buckle underneath of her, and she dropped downward onto her knees as sobs wracked her frail form.  "I just want him back…"

Gazing down upon her sympathetically, Scott gently went down on one knee and held his hand against her back to support her.

Watching the scene unfold, Nightcrawler let his body relax and released a shuddering sigh of relief.  He too would have moved to comfort the girl, if the abrupt sound of static over an intercom had not caught his attention.  Looking to Storm, the two padded back inside the jet were a scanner blinked, alerting them to police activity in the area.

There was a predictable clicking noise, and an officer started speaking. "Adam 14, we have a reported disturbance at Carmel's Pond, campsite A-31, over."  Nightcrawler felt his stomach tighten as another officer reassured them that he was only a few miles away and would report back after he inspected the area.

Walking up behind them, Wolverine caught the end of the call.  "We better not wait around."  He looked down outside to where his motorcycle stood thankfully untouched at the scene of the accident.  "I'll take the bike and meet you back at the mansion."

"Get the license plates and registration," Storm told him.  "We do not need them running a trace on the Porsche."

Smirking, Logan pulled a cigar out of his jacket, figuring he'd earn it.  "Anything else while I'm at it?"

Checking to make sure their situation was under control, Storm looked around Logan to see Scott, who was speaking to the girl in soft tones and slowly leading her toward the ramp.  

"Just work quickly."  She shared a glance with Wolverine, and he nodded in understanding.  The last thing they needed was another brush with the law.

Once Logan had left and Scott and Nora were safely on board, she motioned for Nightcrawler to close the ramp and strode up to Cyclops, who was helping the girl into one of the seats on the plane.  

"The authorities have been alerted," she told him.  "We should leave before we are discovered."

Nodding, Cyclops kept his eyes upon the girl, who stared forward with a disturbing blank expression.  His brow furrowing, he put an awkward hand on her shoulder and motioned for Kurt to stay beside her as he took the navigator's seat beside Storm.

Once at the controls, he looked down into the streets and couldn't help but give a sigh as he watched Wolverine use his claws to rip the license plates from his contorted and still smoking Porsche.

Forcing himself to look away from the wreckage, he caught a glimpse of Nora out of the corner of his eye.  Her cheeks still moist with tears, she brought her knees up to her stomach and turned to sadly stare out of the window.

Though she had been through a great deal, Scott knew the important thing was that she was still alive.  She was safe, her reminded himself.  That was what mattered.  Smiling ever so slightly at the thought, he gave a final glance to his car and refused to look back.  

Considering what might have been lost, he deemed the Porsche Carrera Turbo a sacrifice he was willing to make.


	13. Mutant 27

Sorry about the wait, guys!  Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sergeant Manning's strong strides held purpose as he made his way into the arrival room.  Several hours before, he had gotten the call.  The two subjects had somehow evaded Lexin Grey's army and were en route to a small campground in Mountaintop, Pennsylvania.  Immediately, he dispatched two units armed with heavy artillery, giving them strict orders to detain the subjects, cleanse the area of their arrival, and return to base as quickly as possible.

Manning heaved a controlled sigh.  Though he fully understood the necessity of reinforcements, he disliked the actual practice of employing them.  They were a precaution, a reassurance should something not go according to plan.  The very act of using them alluded to inaccuracy, confirmed a weakness.

Reaching the arrival room, he received formal acknowledgements from his officials and surveyed the area, remembering his priorities.  He gave no indications that he was anything except a military sergeant in complete control of his surroundings.  

Inconsistencies could be dealt with at a later date, he reminded himself.  The two new mutants would arrive only once.  

Putting aside his anxieties, he focused on the first helicopter as it made its descent and watched closely as its occupants scurried onto the platform.

Strong gusts of wind and an irrational fear of being caught by the blades caused his team to hunch their backs as they moved into the hanger, but one did not.  A mutant with glowing red eyes in a bloodied t-shirt and jeans stood out among the crowd.  The subject obediently followed two men who held him tightly by the arms, but stood straight and tall against the heavy air currents, unable to lean down without their permission.

Watching vigilantly, Manning allowed himself the luxury of a slight smile as the mutant was led inside and immediately placed into custody.  A security team systematically padded him for weaponry and found a cell phone and wallet in his back pocket.  Under the watchful eye of their superior, the men did a second check, and a class ring was taken off of the mutant's right hand.

The first team stepped away, and one of their scientists came forward, securing a lightweight metal helmet to his forehead.  The sergeant's muscles tensed slightly at the safety measure.  They had yet to fully validate that the 'helmet' Erik Lehnsherr claimed blocked telepathy actually could, but so far, the test results had shown to be positive.

Manning blinked, changing his gaze as sure footsteps sounded beside him.  Turning, he came face to face with Officer Lexin Grey, who regarded him with a sharp salute.

"At ease, officer," Manning said.  He smiled proudly at his official, and was about to congratulate him on a job well done, when his eyes locked onto the third and final helicopter landing behind them.  A lone navigator and pilot exited the craft and closed the doors behind them before making their way into the hanger.

Frowning, Manning's eyes searched the platform as well as the rest of the arrival room before they landed accusingly back upon Grey.  "Where's the other subject?" he demanded.

At his officer's continued silence, the sergeant felt his jaw tighten.  "I specifically ordered the confinement of two mutants, Grey.  Not one."

Lexin fixed his cold glare upon the sergeant.

Sighing deeply, Manning worked to compose himself as his eyes filled with disapproval.

"Sergeant Manning?"

A dark-skinned woman with smooth black hair stood before him, void of her usual air of confidence.

"Yes, what is it?" he demanded tersely.

Dr. Sierra Bentley lowered her voice.  "There's been another problem with subject number 9."

Manning put up a hand to stop her.  "Just deal with it," he softly intoned.

Pursing her lips in annoyance, Bentley opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself.  She glanced to Lexin and then back at Manning.  Though she had undergone years of medical training, it did not take all of her mental capacity to note the tension between them.  She stepped back, deciding to save her complaints for when they would be better received.

Manning turned to ignore her as Lexin Grey stood at attention.  

"Mutant number twenty-seven has been delivered," he simply affirmed.  "If my regular duties could be postponed, I do have calls to make to the families of the men who gave their lives in combat.  Their bodies are on the way to the morgue as we speak, but proper burial services will have to be scheduled."

Manning closed his eyes as he nodded.  "You are dismissed, officer," he allowed.

With a curt nod, Lexin passed the sergeant and quickly trailed into the hallway.

Blinking at his taut movements, Dr. Bentley's heels clicked behind him as she hurried to follow him out of the room.  "Officer Grey," she called.

He paused in his stride, pivoting at the heel.  "Yes, Bentley."

The doctor took in a pensive breath, and for a moment she tried to study him.  Her brown eyes peered deeply into his, but whatever Lexin had been thinking remained hidden well behind his strict veneer of professionalism.  When he raised his eyebrows, she sighed and broke her gaze.  "Nothing," she said.

The exchange was a common occurrence.  Figuring out Lexin Grey was a task she often failed to accomplish.

"Dr. Bentley."  An older doctor in a lab coat and slacks similar to her own walked up to her, causing her to stand taller in competence.  "Carnahan had to leave early.  Would you mind taking his shift?  We've got a new subject in Lab 17."

Bentley regarded the doctor with a cooperative nod.  "That would be fine."

"I'd appreciate it."

"It's not a problem," she said.  After watching the doctor retreat back down the pristine military hallway, Bentley looked back to Lexin.

They stood there alone in the hallway for a few more moments before Bentley's voice lowered in sincerity.  "Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked.

"Later," he decided.

Nodding, she turned her back to him, allowing the officer to return to his phone calls.  She sighed.  Their meetings often ended in such a manner.  Looming through the familiar military complex, she ordered all thoughts of Lexin to leave her and reached her destination in record time.

The moment she entered into the room, a soldier's perplexed stare greeted her.  "Where's Carnahan?"

"Left early," she answered.  Securing a pair of protective gloves around her hands, she placed a thin white cloth overtop her head and a mask to cover her face.  "I'll be taking over his shift.  Any precautions I should know about?"

"He's been behaving himself, now that the drug's been administered."  Behind the soldier, a team of two men led the young mutant into the room and had him come to a stop at a slick metal table.  One of the soldiers handed her a clipboard with some basic information about the mutant, and then moved towards the door to wait for her to finish the physical.

"When was the last dosage given?" she asked, looking over his sheet.

"0600 hours."

After marking it down on a graph, Bentley set her watch, just in case the examination took longer than expected, and looked over her shoulder to find several vials filled with the synthetic drug, resting in their place behind her.  Her brow furrowed as she read over his chart.  With mutants, you could never be sure.

"Will you be requiring my assistance?" the soldier checked with her.

It was a customary question, not an offer.  "No," Bentley said.

Nodding politely, the soldier left the room, letting the door slam behind him and leaving two men stationed by the door.

Releasing a deep breath, Bentley took a serious look at the mutant before her.  He was a tall, well-built Caucasian boy with dark brown hair that slicked back against the device covering his head.  She looked down at the spreadsheet.  According to the chart, he'd had green eyes before they administered the serum.  She gave a mocking sigh as she inspected his injuries.  From the look of his face and arms, he had not come without a fight.

Bentley put the clipboard down with a 'click' onto the metal table.  "Arms up."

The mutant responded, and Dr. Bentley went to work, cutting away his grimy t-shirt and applying ointment and bandages to his various cuts and bruises.  After all his lacerations were cleaned, she had him undress and went into procedure, checking him for various abrasions or signs of disease.  Working quickly, she was able to fill the chart within a matter of hours, and when he was dressed in his military-issued clothing, she returned him promptly back into the soldiers' custody.

"Here." She handed them the clipboard along with one of the vials behind her.  "He'll need this in another four hours."  The soldiers nodded their understanding.  "Take him across the hall.  He still needs a number."

Leading the mutant away from the lab, the soldiers obediently entered into the room across the hall and once again had him remove his shirt.

A clean needle dug across his right upper bicep, tattooing the digits '0027' into his skin with dark blue ink.  

The mutant endured, never flinching, unable to complain of the burning sensation that sunk deep into his skin, or the humiliation of having his identity replaced by a number.


	14. The Informant

Returning from a morning of surveillance, Mystique landed her helicopter within the confines of Erik's base, well ensconced in the back woods of Juniper, Maine.  Taking off her helmet, she removed the keys from their ignition and placed them in the console.  Sometimes she barely even registered that she had gone through the landing procedure, she had become so accustomed to flying. 

Exiting the aircraft, she smiled ever so succinctly as she thought of how far her skills had progressed.  After the many times she had shadowed subjects at Erik's request, little effort was required on her part when it came to trailing the X-Men and their activities.

Large metal doors opened, seemingly of themselves, allowing her passage into the main entrance hall.  While they had been temporarily involved with Xavier's followers during Alkali Lake, the Brotherhood had on an official level experienced little to no contact with the school.  However, privately, they kept themselves well informed of all their movements within and outside of Westchester.

She smirked, remembering how ridiculous the Porsche and motorcycle had looked, haphazardly patrolling the area around Carmel's Pond.  Though the X-men prided themselves on their ability to retrieve and counsel runaway mutants, it was Erik and herself who usually perceived far more than Xavier's small band of high school teachers.

Perhaps if the two sides were allied, the information could have been shared, maybe even used for a mutual purpose.  But Xavier's only concern was for peace, and Erik's only for war.  Though the X-men thought their cause braver and more righteous than Magneto's, Mystique had the luxury of understanding where many never would.

She frowned suddenly, fiercely.  Their kind had been victimized from the moment of their realization.  Erik fought for equality in a world that tried in every way to oppress them, the equality they deserved more than anyone else.  Human leaders openly denied them their freedom.  Why shouldn't they take it by force from anyone who tried to refuse it to them?

The humans were undeserving of their position of power, and because they had become convinced of their own superiority, they made sloppy mistakes.

A sly smile crept across her face.  Like Stryker.  Erik had turned the entire situation against the self-proclaimed military genius, without even using half of the immense power his being embodied.

When the world fully understood the strength of their kind, it would be humanity's legions that would fall before Erik in fear.  It would be human authority figures that recognized mutant power.  It would be the human race that would obey their laws and follow their ordinances.

Erik was more that capable of attaining that power, she thought to herself as she reached his own personal section of the base.  He was born to rule.  It was the reason she stayed beside him.  

It was then that Mystique entered into Magneto's chamber with the grace and poise that he loved her for.

"What did you find?" he asked simply.  Magneto sat behind his desk, twisting what had at one point been a letter opener into a smooth metallic ball in his left hand.

"The Blaize twins made it as far as Luzerne County," she reported, unfazed by the notion.  "They fought, but the boy was detained and put under military control."

Magneto nodded ever so slightly.  Ever since he had seen the remains of the Blaize residence on the news, he had understood the movement's sudden interest in the mutant twins.  "Where was he taken?"

"Washington," she answered.  "To a government building outside the capitol."

He stared forward, calculating.  "And the girl?" he asked.

"She escaped," she replied.  "By the X-Men's intervention."

Magneto nodded.  He had expected as much.  "She went with them willingly, I presume?"

"Eventually."  Taking a deep breath, she poured herself down into a metal chair across from Erik, like champagne into an oddly shaped wine glass.  The slightest smile curved across her lips.  "Not before crashing into Scott Summers' new Porsche."

The thought seemed to please him.  "I trust they were unscathed," Erik said.

Mystique nodded.  "The transporter retrieved her."

He paused momentarily and allowed the letter opener to take its original shape. Staring off to the side, he systematically filed away her observations deep within his mind.  At the moment, the information served him little purpose, but perhaps eventually it would prove in one way or another to be useful.  The letter opener clinked against the surface of his desk.  One could never be too sure.

Mystique stared out of the massive window behind Erik in a specific direction.  "How is our youngest associate?" she queried.

Magneto shifted from his thoughts.  "Growing restless," he replied.  "And understandably so.  We will need to occupy him further in our operations."  

He and Mystique shared a knowing smile.

Though the young Pyro had joined them before in several of their public appearances, he had yet to be the star.


	15. More Than Attentive

The events that took place after the X-jet landed in Westchester were a blur for Nora Blaize.    
She remembered being brought through automatic doors into a high-tech medical facility, and how the spotless, metal interior had initially unnerved her.  Too tired to again question their motives, Nora looked Cyclops for reassurance, and though she couldn't see his eyes, something about his smile made her obediently follow them inside.  

From there, she met Dr. Ruth Clairmonde, an older woman in her fifties, who handed her a tall glass of water.  Only now realizing how dehydrated she was, she greedily gulped it down as well as a second and third as the kind doctor began to apply disinfectant to a gash in her arm.

Nora was put at ease by the woman's natural beside manner, and she soon found herself answering questions about her medical history and what medications she was allergic to.  After her wounds were dressed, the doctor checked her temperature and blood pressure, allowing Nora to feel for just a second like she was a regular girl at a doctor's office, receiving a check-up.

A few moments later, a well dressed, completely bald man in a wheelchair had greeted her.  Though Nora hadn't paid attention when he gave his name, he had told her that she was at a school, a school for mutants.  Their conversation had been brief, ending with him telling her to rest and promising that he would speak to her again once she had recovered her strength.

At his departure, Dr. Clairmonde had showed her into a small hospital room off to the side.  The doctor had been saying something about a shower stall and towels, but all Nora saw was the bed.  Her heavy legs dragging across the floor, she reached the edge and collapsed onto the mattress with a 'fffump', not even bothering to take off her sneakers.

Cushioned by a very soft pillow, Nora's eyelids drooped, and she immediately sunk downward into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Standing in the doorway, Cyclops watched as the doctor removed her shoes and gently tucked a blanket around the sleeping girl.

Smiling slightly, Dr. Clairmonde left the darkened room and joined Scott in the main section of the med-lab.  "Out like a light," she commented as she cleaned the table.

"You think she'll be okay?" he asked.

The doctor cast a glance back to the room.  "I don't see why not.  I'll check up on her every few hours, but she'll probably sleep through most of tonight and tomorrow."

Leaning against the MRI unit, Scott smiled affectionately towards the doctor.  "It's been good of you to come out here, Ruth."

Wrinkles creased at the edge of her gray-blue eyes as the old doctor gave a brief laugh.  "Leave it to Charles to give me a call a week before my retirement papers go through."

Scott chuckled.  Clairmonde had been the doctor at the school back when he'd been a student.  His face became somber.  They had needed someone with medical expertise, after Jean.

"You were the only person he called," he let her know.  "He always speaks well of you."

She gave a 'hmph', but couldn't hide her smile.  "Well, there are very few people Charles will speak poorly of."  The doctor took in a deep, cleansing breath once the station was cleaned.  "But I'm glad to hear I'm not one of them."

His smile turned sideways.  She hadn't quite protested against the compliment, yet she had not fully endorsed it either.  It left him in no position to praise her further.  Uncanny, that Ruth Clairmonde.  

Scott picked up his jacket.  "I'll be back in a little while," he said, taking his leave.  "If you'd like, I can bring you down a cup of coffee when I do."

"Now, that," she said, pointing to him, "is a gesture I would greatly appreciate."

When he left the room, the doctor checked to make sure the medical lab was back in order and once again looked in on her only patient.  The teenage girl lay in the same position they had left her, sprawled out across the bed.

The doctor put a hand to her chin, and reminded herself to ask Charles for the girl's full story when she spoke with him later that evening.

Safe within the confines of the school, Nora slept for a full twenty-four hours, and spent a second day resting in the infirmary under the direction of the doctor who cared for her.

* * * * *

Alone in his room, Trevor Avish plugged long and tiresome equations into his TI-83 and scribbled down what he thought was the answer to one of his many math problems.  Grumbling at the gibberish on the page, he brushed sleepy sand out of his eyes as he sat at his desk.  

He _knew _he should have finished the assignment last night.

With a sigh, Trevor slouched down in his chair as far as he could without falling off the edge.   Okay, he thought, running his hands through his dusty red shoulder-length hair.  It was official.  

Physics was driving him insane.

Gazing out into space, he toyed with the idea of going down into the art room for a break.  He still hadn't finished that modern collage, or the charcoal sketch…  Maybe he could get Aimee to go with him.  After all, why not?  Several of their classes had already been cancelled for the day.

His eyes once again finding the handout, Trevor made a determined face and clutched his pencil with newfound resolve.  No.  It was time to focus, he chided himself.  No more distractions.

Trevor's inner pep-talk had actually caused him to start the next word problem, when he overheard familiar voices chatting outside of his open bedroom door.

"-Brought her in after first period," Bobby Drake, his roommate, commented to someone as he slowly made his way down the hall.  "I got a glimpse of Cyclops and Storm leading her into the hospital wing when I was heading out of the Danger Room."

"We heard the X-Jet leave early this morning.  We wondered if we'd be seein' somebody new." Rogue's voice joined her boyfriend's.  "Was she okay?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders.  "She was a little scratched up.  Kind of scared.  But other than that, she seemed alright."

Trevor looked down at his physics homework and back to the door.  There was no contest.  Noiselessly, he inched towards the door to listen more closely.  It had been at least four months since they'd gotten a new student.

"What's she look like?" she asked.

"A normal high school kid, about our age," Bobby answered.  "You wouldn't know she was a mutant to look at her."

Trevor grinned.  A new student their age?  His best friend Aimee Whittaker, goddess of gossip, would be in her glory.

Leaning her head to the side, Rogue heaved a thoughtful sigh. She remembered what it was like the first time she'd come to the mansion.  The frightening novelty of it all, the culture shock of suddenly being surrounded by so many mutants…  "She's prob'ly pretty overwhelmed…"

"Yeah," Bobby soundly agreed.  Leaning against the wall, he linked his arms around her small waist.  "She was a runaway from the looks of her."

She returned the gesture, enjoying the closeness of their bodies.  "Did she have anything with her?" she wondered aloud.  "Like a bag of backpack?"

Bobby thought back.  "No," he said.  "Not with her anyway."

Rogue arched her neck, causing her white tresses to fall forward.  "Well, then don't you think we oughtta give her a proper welcome?  Some clothes or something?  She probably doesn't even have a hairbrush."

Bobby distractedly brushed back the white streaks in her hair, being careful not to touch the skin around her face.  "It'd be a nice gesture," he said, knowing his girlfriend meant well.  "But I'm sure Dr. Clarimonde's taking care of her, as well as the rest of the staff.  The professor wouldn't let her go without clothes."

"I know, but I'm just saying it might be nice to see people her own age," she pressed.  "It couldn't hurt, Bobby."

Still listening in, Trevor read the meaning behind Rogue's words.  She wanted to meet the new girl because she was concerned, yes, but also to satisfy her own curiosity.  Trevor's smile grew.  And who could blame her?

Unconvinced, Bobby breathed an icy sigh.  "I don't know, Rogue.  I just think we should wait until-"

At that point, footsteps sounded behind them and another voice joined their conversation.  "Rogue?"  There was a short scuffling sound as the two moved away from each other, out of respect for the woman before them. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"

It was Miss Munroe.  Trevor pulled back his wavy hair to lean his ear closer against the wall.  He suddenly wondered why he didn't eavesdrop more often.

"Yeah, sure," Rogue allowed.

Storm wasted no time in explaining herself.  "This morning a teenage girl was brought into the school to be given medical attention."  She gave Rogue a quick once-over.  "You're close to her in size, and I was wondering if she might borrow an outfit of yours.  Just a simple t-shirt?  Jeans?  It doesn't have to be anything elaborate-"

"Sure," she repeated enthusiastically.  "It's no problem."

"Thank you." Storm said in a reserved tone that rarely left her.  "Just bring them down to the medical lab when you have the chance, and Dr. Clairmonde will see that she gets them."

Once again, Rogue assured Storm that it was not a problem, and her mission completed, Miss Munroe returned back down the hallway to attend to other matters.

Trevor snickered as quietly as possible when Rogue smugly turned her face to Bobby.

"See?" she taunted.

Bobby muttered something about a lucky coincidence, and laughing proudly, Rogue began to rattle off outfits that she would be willing to part with as they made their way to her room.  As their voices faded, Trevor stepped back from the wall.

Forgetting all about his physics homework, he threw on a pair of shoes and waited until the couple was out of sight before hurriedly clamoring down the stairs.

He suddenly couldn't wait to see Aimee's reaction to the news. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Muwahahaha! Inspiration just keeps coming!  Curious as to what Trevor looks like??  A very talented friend of mine did a drawing.  Email me at dianaclampe@yahoo.com if you wanna see ;D


	16. Behind Closed Doors

            Trevor Avish reached Aimee's room in record time, but just as he was about to take hold of the doorknob, the door flung open and a skinny arm yanked him inside.  

            A lightweight girl of sixteen with light blonde hair tied up in a fashionably sloppy bun instantly slammed the door shut and locked it behind her.

            "A suspicion," Aimee Whittaker began dramatically, "has been growing in my mind."

            Blinking, Trevor opened his mouth to comment, but was hushed by his excited friend.  "I must ask for your complete attention.  I have formulated a theory."

Though he too had much to tell her, Trevor knew that when Aimee got like this, it was best to just let it run its course.  Lending her an amused smile, he considerately waved forth his hand.

"Thank you," she sighed.  With an illustrious clear of her throat, she paced forward past him in the most serious of manners.  "There are several occurrences which have led me to come across said theory.  Strange happening number one…"  She held up a finger.  "The X-Jet leaves in a flash at the ungodly hour of four 'o clock this morning, waking every single living organism in the entire building, causing me to leap out of bed and stumble onto the floor as I caught my left ankle on the bed sheets."  Looking to Trevor, she gave a scoff.  "And don't even look at me like I'm clumsy.  It happens to _everyone.  _If they don't to find a way to stop the Richter scale from jumping off the charts every time they decide to get up and save the world I swear my brain molecules are just going to-"

Taking note of Trevor's arched eyebrow, Aimee took a pause.  "But I digress."  She held up another finger.  "Point number two!"  She opened her hands to present her class schedule hanging up on the wall of her dorm room.  "Classes inexplicably cancelled.  Mr. Summers, Miss Munroe, Mr. Wagner, _and _Wolverine mysteriously disappear, not a soul to be seen at breakfast.  So I logically question, to where have they vanished?"  She answered her own question before Trevor could.  "Aboard the focus of point number one, the X-Jet, of course."

Sitting back against her dresser, Trevor feigned wonderment at her deduction.

"Which brings us to my final observation," she announced.  "Point number three."  She leaned in close to him as if sharing a secret.  "As I am looking around, trying to locate the personages of point number two, I see Dr. Clairmonde, out of her medical element and mysteriously opening up an empty room on the floor."  She ran the tips of her fingers along her chin.  "Said she had to air it out.  Said they'd be in need of it soon."

With a running start, she bounded up into the center of her bed.  "With the X-Jet suddenly venturing outward, the entire staff – save the professor – MIA since breakfast, _and _the room down the hall open for business, I could come to but a single conclusion."  She took in a deep, gasping breath and ended excitedly, "The four and a half month long wait is over, and we're getting a-"

"New girl?" Trevor finished innocently.

If Aimee's shoulders could have fallen any further, they would have been at her knees.  "No way!" she whined.  "That's not fair.  How'd you know?"

Trevor comfortingly patted her on the shoulder.  "Don't be too hard on yourself," he said.  "Bobby saw -"

"Bobby?" she intoned.  "Bobby _Drake?_"

He put up his hands.  "One and the same."

Falling into a sitting position on the bed, the girl sulkily crossed her thin arms.  "You've got be kidding me!  Ice-wonder wouldn't know a new girl if one came up and dropkicked him in the derrière.  He wouldn't know a theory if the heavens parted and a divine message appeared in 72 pt. font on his message board-"  Her thought process came to a halt as a sudden realization sprung forth from her mind.  "Unless…it was an inside job…"

Trevor quirked a disbelieving eyebrow.  "You _really_ think that Iceman's trying to replace you as head of gossip central?"

Aimee swept past him, lost in thoughts of conspiracy.  "It has to be one of the teachers.  Could it be Nightcrawler?" she questioned.  "He's fairly new to the Mutant High scene… He could easily be put in a position of 'traitor' unknowingly…"  She shook her head.  "But no, Bobby wouldn't go to him."

"Aimee," Trevor ventured.  "I think you're missing the point."

"It wouldn't be Miss Munroe," she said decisively.  "And Cyclops?"  She gave a snort.  "Please, talk about straight-laced.  He wouldn't _dare_ to betray _me._  I'm a veteran!"

"Aimee."

Her brown eyes lit up.  "Which leaves only Wolverine!"  Her soft features twisted.  "That snitch!  In cahoots with Bobby Drake!  Thinks he's so big and bad with his claws and super-strength.  Well, just _wait _until he gets an ear-load from me-"

"Aimee!" Trevor reached out and took her by the shoulders.

At his raised voice, her eyes went wide.  "What?" she demanded.

Trevor easily came to a full calm and addressed her once more.  "Do you want to know what Bobby said, or not?" he asked.

"Oh.  Right!"  She brightened, forsaking all notions of inner-corruption among the school staff as Trevor held her interest.  She looked on in suspense, missing only a bucket of popcorn in front of her.  "Well, what're you waiting for?  Dish."

Taking a deep breath, Trevor slowly repeated what he had overheard in a clear, concise manner, making sure to include even the most minute details of the interaction to satisfy the girl before him.

"So," he said when he had finished.  "My point is - if you hurry, you still have time to get to the rest of the students and start the grapevine down into the younger grades before 'Icewonder'-" He gave a sideways smile, reusing her term.  "-comes back and does it for you."

"You're right," she realized, immediately taking off in a run down the hallway.  "The masses need to be informed!"  
Lumbering after her, Trevor called from the doorway, "Don't thank me for eavesdropping!  Really!  It's all for charity."

Doing nothing to disguise her haste, Aimee spared a wave to him before sliding across the well-waxed floors.  "I won't forget this, Trev!"  She turned once more to address him, running backwards.  "I am indebted beyond my mortal means!"

Aimee gave an 'oof', and Trevor winced backwards as her shoulders unintentionally smacked into an unsuspecting Wolverine.

With surprised eyes, Logan backed away.  "Hey," he said. "You want to watch where you're-"

"And you!" Aimee cut him off, before he could finish his comment.  "Don't think for a minute that _you're _off the hook!  You better believe I'll talk to you about this later."

She had already scampered back onto her feet and burst unannounced into Kitty Pride's room before Wolverine could complete his thought.

His brow furrowing, the muscular man swerved and looked to Trevor.  A few seconds of silence passed between them before he asked, "Do I want to know?"

The boy started to say something, but then stopped himself.  "No," he admitted.

Wolverine nodded and spared one last glance to the dorm room where Aimee could be heard loudly chattering before continuing on his way.

With no one left in sight and Aimee off to re-claim her good standing, Trevor heaved a satisfied sigh and reluctantly started back towards his unfinished physics problems.

A new girl, he thought, chuckling to himself as he went back up the stairs.  

A high-pitched squeal of excitement that he was sure belonged to Aimee echoed loudly in the hallway.

Just what they needed to keep things interesting.

* * * * *

A soothing computerized voice confirmed his identity.

"Welcome, Professor."

With a 'tick-tick-tick', the blue and gray clasps rotated and cleanly opened the doors that led to Cerebro, allowing Professor Xavier passage inside.  

Ororo Munroe stood by in the hallway, watching as her mentor slowly disappeared behind the metal doors to search for the missing youth.  From what they had discerned from the girl, it was humans that had tried to take the children.  It would be unlikely that they had traveled far.

Nightcrawler's talons clicked against the floor, announcing his arrival before he actually appeared beside her.  "He es looking for ze child?"

Storm nodded her answer.  "We may have to leave again shortly."

Kurt nodded in return.  He stared forward at the closed door of Cerebro.  It was easy for him to imagine the scene behind its doors; he had seen the professor use the strange and powerful contraption before.

But what he could not fully imagine was the power behind the man who used it.  Kurt had relied on his mutation for many things over the years: an identity, a livelihood, and under the best of circumstances, a way to better the lives of those around him.  But to have a power so great that entire cities could be killed, that anyone in any place could be discovered, that time itself would appear to stand still…

It was astounding to say the least.

A few minutes later the professor emerged from the room, and Kurt sent him a hopeful smile.

It unfortunately could not be returned.  The professor's eyebrows pent together as he reached them.  "I was unable to locate her brother."

Storm closed her eyes for a moment, knowing what his absence from the professor's mind most likely meant.  Perhaps he'd been too uncooperative.  Maybe it was a punishment for the lives they had taken.  She frowned.  Or perhaps, like so many of their kind, the boy had simply been unlucky.

Though upset by the news, Storm pushed the thoughts from her mind and focused on the task at hand.  "What should we do?" she asked.

"I'll talk to her once she's fully healed," the professor told them.  "She should be informed of the circumstances."  He paused.  "In the meantime, we can make her comfortable and continue looking for those who took her brother.  From there, we will receive more answers."

She shared an understanding glance with her mentor.

Though Lucas Blaize had more likely not survived, there was still much to be discovered.  She pursed her lips, troubled.  And still many threats posed to their kind…

The professor excused himself, and Ororo left the room, followed by a contemplative Kurt.

Nightcrawler waited until he and Storm were alone in the elevator to voice his thoughts.  "Vhat do ve tell ze students?" he asked.

Ororo thought a moment before answering.  "We should keep our explanations simple," she told him as the elevator doors opened.  "As far as I can see, right now, there's very little to-" Before she could elaborate, a barrage of young children burst forth past them.

"Walk please," Storm called, resuming her role as teacher.  She looked to one in particular.  "Now, Jimmy, what have I told you?"

He rolled his eyes, and his feet found the ground.  "Keep it at a hover.  I'm not a 747." 

She failed at hiding back her smile, but motioned for him that he was allowed to go on his way.

"So what grade is she in?" one child asked another, their voices echoing down the hall.

"She's with the big kids."

"Is she around?"

"Nah, still sleepin' downstairs."

"Oh…"

As the children walked around the corner, an amused smile made its way onto Nightcrawler's face.  "Nevermind," he said.  He leaned in to whisper.  "Zey probably know more zan ve do."

Storm laughed, grateful for the moment of candor.  She looked around.  It was true.  Secrets at Xavier's School for the Gifted, no matter how sacred or simple, rarely stayed hidden for long.


	17. Mental Connection

Sergeant Manning watched Mutant #27 behind thick, fire-resistant glass.  

When the mutant was ordered, a weak puff of red smoke spurt from his palms and wafted into the air.  Sitting at a computer screen, a man in a lab-coat squinted at the colored layers a heat-sensitive scan awarded the small blast.  His lips pursed in time with the sergeant's.

"Why is he not responding?" Manning asked.

Beside him, a thin little stump of a man nervously tapped the tips of his fingers against each other.  "Well," Dr. Rieker stammered.  He motioned for Manning to join him off to the side, and the sergeant complied.  "That's what we've been meaning to discuss."

"Is it the serum?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"Oh, no," the doctor replied, almost good-naturedly.  "No, the serum is working just as it's designed to."

Manning blinked.  "Then, what's the problem?"

Despite the circumstances, the man before him excitedly wrought his sweaty hands together.  "Well, it's actually quite interesting.  It's the only case I-we've ever seen like this."

Behind his eyelids, Manning tried to stare up at the ceiling.  "Doctor, we could do without the fanfare."

"Right," he said a bit too quickly.  "Of course.  Well, I – the team you've assembled and myself – think that the subject isn't using the full energy he displayed prior to his detainment because…he simply can't."

The doctor's smile faded when Manning repeated, "He can't."

He nodded.  "Precisely."

Manning felt his blood pressure escalate.  "And why not?"

"Well, it was a surprise at first, seeing a subject refusing to follow a command," he prefaced in a surreptitious voice.  "But the serum had been administered at its proper time and measurement.  So we waited for the next dosage."  His hands opened outward.  "When the _exact _same thing happened.  He responded with a reaction only a twelfth of its original magnitude, if the reports from your officers were any indication of his full potential.  We worried at first that it meant that the serum was losing its hold, or that the subject could work up an immunity to the synthetic version-"

Manning spoke impatiently.  "Doctor, have you isolated an explanation or not?"

Noting the irritation in his superior's tone, Dr. Rieker quickly condensed his speech.  "We looked into his records.  Now, whenever your team surveyed their movements…" He flipped to the beginning of the pages in the binder.   "He and his sibling were never examined apart from one another," he said, squinting through glasses disproportionately sized to his face.  "Now, your team has separated the siblings, perhaps by hundreds, possibly thousands of miles."

The look on Manning's face showed his apparent lack of comprehension.

Licking his lips, he continued in a slow, exact tone, "We've come to believe that the extent of their abilities depends on their proximity to each other.  Together, they easily took on an entire army of your best forces, but apart…"  He put his pointer fingers next to each other and then pulled them back to make his point.  "They weaken."  He pointed to the mutant behind the glass.  "Drastically, in this case."  

As Manning breathed a difficult sigh, the doctor let out a short, perplexed laugh.  "It's really, actually fascinating, if you think about it.  That something so inherently psychological could have physical effects, _especially _against a serum designed to inhibit just those responses."

Somehow Manning was not willing to share in the doctor's enthusiasm.  "I trust your team has prepared some a semblance of possible solutions."

The doctor's face grew ashen.  "Well."  He tapped the tips of his fingers nervously across the edge of the binder.  "Well, no."  At Manning's frown, he amended, "Not yet.  You have to understand this is rather unanticipated.  It'll need to be researched."

"There is more than enough time to document scientific discovery," Manning told him.  His eyes stayed on Mutant #27 as he was taken out of the fireproof room.  "But this mutant's abilities are needed now, at their full extent."

The doctor shrugged his thin shoulders.  "Then… I suggest you retrieve his sibling.  By all logical means, that would serve the quickest solution."

Ah, yes, Manning thought.  His other headache.  Of course, the sergeant had tried the usual means of locating a missing person.  In most circumstances, an assailant was found when they returned home, in search of asylum.  He had stationed several of his men to watch their house, her school, and the surrounding neighborhood in case the girl should call upon her family or friends for comfort.  Unfortunately, she had not been foolish enough to call upon the predictable venues.

With every passing day, retrieving his sibling became less and less of an option.

"And if we cannot, what would be the best course of action?" he asked.

The doctor paused, suddenly studying the page in front of him, as if the computer printout held all the answers to his every concern hidden between the lines.  "Well.  We would have to delve more deeply into the underlying inferences.  Try to use behavior modification exercises to get the subject to harness his full power."

"And how long would you presume a program like that would last?"

"Weeks," the doctor conjectured uncertainly.  "Months.  It would all depend.  It would be a completely revolutionary procedure with no known results to anticipate."

"Start it," he said pointedly.  "I want a daily report of your progress."

"Of course."  He smiled eagerly as he received his superior's blessing.  "We'll work as quickly as possible.  I'll have the first results on your desk tomorrow morning."

Manning nodded.  "I'll anticipate it."

When the sergeant left, Dr. Rieker immediately gained the attention of his team and debriefed them on their assignment.  They stayed in the laboratory throughout the night, brainstorming ideas and assembling a plan of action.  Finally, as the early morning hours gave way to daylight, they officially initiated their project, dubbing the experiment – The Psychosomatic Modification of Mutant #27.

Through Dr. Rieker was in charge of the experimentation, an entire company of doctors aided him in creating its abstract.  Under the consensus that the mutant was responding on a neurological level to the absence of his twin sister, the doctors theorized that putting the mutant's system under direct biological stress would cause him to react out of inborn survival instincts, thereby forgoing his mental restraints.

Through a series of shock therapy that grew in intensity, the mutant's body was put into a state of distress, and already on the first day, considerable progress was made.  In reaction to the electricity coursing through his veins, the mutant's power intensified, and as Rieker declared, a scientific breakthrough was made.

The electric shock administered to her brother steadily increased in voltage, and miles away at Xavier's School for the Gifted, Nora Blaize flung her blankets off of her body and awoke with a start.


	18. Xavier's School for the Gifted

Sitting up in bed, Nora clutched her chest, feeling her heartbeat flutter rapidly against her hand.  "Luke," she whispered.

"Nora?"  The figure standing in her doorway sent her a look of concern.

Surprised, she jumped, but then allowed her shoulders to relax as she gradually recognized Dr. Clairmonde.  She looked around the hospital room the X-Men had afforded her as the memories came flooding back.  She suddenly remembered with painful clarity the attack on her house… The soldiers at the campsite… Luke's disappearance…The car crash…Her fit aboard the jet…

Closing her eyes, she gave a soft groan and ran both her hands through her ragged brown hair.  

"Are you alright?" the doctor asked.

"Yeah," she said, though it wasn't true.  The images from her dream had faded fast, but the terrified look upon her brother's face remained emblazoned behind her eyes.  "Yeah, I'm fine…"

The doctor squinted at her, but somehow knew not to pry further, much to the appreciation of the girl before her.  Instead, she plopped down a pair of light green towels with a travel-sized bottle of shampoo and conditioner resting on top of them.

"If you're feeling up to it, there's a shower at your disposal," Dr. Clairmonde let her know.  "And a toothbrush in the sink."

When the doctor turned around, Nora curiously lifted up her arm and put her nose in her armpit.  The stench sent her reeling backward.  "Ugh…" she intoned.

There was a soft chuckle, and Dr. Clairmonde tossed her a new bar of deodorant.  "Now that, we can cure."

Nora caught it in her hand.  "Thanks," she said, applying the deodorant underneath of her hospital gown.

"Compliments of Xavier's School for the Gifted," she returned with a wink.

Nora blinked.  That's right.  She remembered the man in the wheelchair from a few mornings before.  She was at a 'mutant school.'  A few fleeting images of a chaotic classroom filled with students who could disappear, change color, and blast bolts of lightning into their teachers' rears played in her mind.

She climbed to her feet.  But while she was curious as to what the school was like, she wanted nothing more than to speak to the people who had said they would find her brother.  They had promised her that, and Nora planned to take full advantage of any help they could offer her, because she _was _going to bring him back.

But if she was going to earn their aid… She looked down at her grimy hands and then to the shower stall in the cheerily-lit bathroom.  She would have to be clean.  Once inside the shower, Nora washed herself several times over, using up all the shampoo in the bottle and scrubbing her skin until she was sure the stench was gone.

When she returned from the bathroom, she found a hairbrush, a hairdryer, and a clean set of clothes waiting for her.  Blinking, she picked up a note-card that lay on top of a light purple v-neck.

_Welcome to Mutant High! _ The note exclaimed, decorated with colorful flowers around the message.

Nora traced her fingers along its edges before putting it aside.  Over the whirl of the hairdryer, she pursed her lips pensively.  Hopefully, they were as friendly as they sounded.

* * * * *

When she emerged dressed and dried, Dr. Clairmonde looked to her in approval.  "You're looking spry."  Nora offered her a sheepish smile.  "Ready to enter back into the world of the living?"

"Yeah," she said, trying to look like she entered into mutant schools every day.  "Yeah.  Let's do it."

A few moments later Cyclops and Storm entered into the med-lab.  As she exchanged a few awkward pleasantries with the two, she felt her stance crumple and butterflies take over her stomach.  They had only seen her at her worst, she realized.  They couldn't see Nora Blaize.  They saw an unstable, wild girl, who punched people and crashed cars when she got angry.  Which to be fair, only made sense.

Nora could feel her face turning red as they spoke.  She had done all that, and still they had given her a room and meals and medical assistance without question.  It was hard not to feel embarrassed, standing before them in clothes they had given her.

After the doctor gave her a quick check-up and declared her ready to be discharged, she was led her into the main section of the school.  She learned that it was Saturday, and they were taking her to see 'the professor.'

"You said he was going to help find my brother," Nora reminded them.

Scott knew to regard her with a serious nod.  "He's going to do everything he can.  Just like we promised."

"Okay," she declared, more to herself than anyone else.  "Okay…"

As they continued down the hallway, Nora looked for a distraction and found herself immediately drawn to the beautiful structural design of the school.  Its architecture was in a word, spectacular.  In two, it was friggin' incredible.  The entire building was strong and solid, looking like it could easily withstand a hurricane and a couple world wars, and for all Nora knew, it already had.  The craftsmanship was that of an older building, but the windows and furnishing designs gave it a modern edge, Victorian Age meets 21st century posh.

But the second thing that caught her eye was how many younger children were making their way through the school on a Saturday morning.  Even more surprising were their mannerisms.  Many of the mutants, most of whom looked no different than human children, smiled their way and openly regarded Cyclops and the woman with affection.

A wavering smile reached her lips as she watched the way the students interacted with her rescuers.  Though she'd passed by empty classrooms, well-furnished lounges, and long hallways, she could already see that it wasn't just a school.  There was a sense of safety, of home, which was something that she hadn't expected.

It calmed her.

Instinctively, she began to wonder what Luke would think.  "I dunno," she could almost hear him say, before giving a sly grin.  "Show me the male to female ratio and the food in the cafe, and then we'll talk."

She frowned as she was reminded of the painful void of his absence.  Imagining what he might say was all she had left of him right now…

Nora had become so lost in her thoughts that she barely even noticed that Cyclops and Storm had come to a stop at a mahogany door that read the nameplate "Professor Charles Xavier."

They had opened the door and started inside before looking back, waiting for her to follow.

Nora took a deep breath, feeling for a moment like a diver about to plunge into the deep end of a pool.

_You can do this, _she told herself.  _This is how you're going to find Luke. _

Gathering her courage, she straightened her shoulders, looked to both of them, and stepped inside of the office.


	19. Left Alone

Cyclops positioned himself alongside of the wall closest to the professor's desk as they entered into the room.  

"Good morning, Nora."  The professor sent her a kind smile.  

"Good morning," the girl returned in an even tone.

Wheeling himself out from behind his desk, he gestured that she could take the seat across from him.  "How are you feeling?" he asked her, sincerely interested.

"Better," she said, sitting down.  She looked to her arm, still bandaged.  "Doctor…"  She sighed as she found she'd forgotten her name and looked to the professor with a sheepish grin.  "The doc was…very kind.  Very attentive." 

The edges of his smile widened ever so slightly.  "Well, Dr. Clairmonde is an excellent care-giver."  He leaned in a little closer.  "But…how are you really feeling?" he asked in a more meaningful way.

Nora took a deep breath.  "I'm worried."  Cyclops listened closely, surprised by her immediate honesty.  "About my brother."

The professor nodded, his deep blue eyes seeming to somehow completely understand the depths of her concern.  "I began looking for your brother as soon as we realized that he had been abducted."

Nora blinked, suddenly grateful.  Even while she was asleep, they had been trying to find him.  "Well, what's been done?" she asked immediately.  "Do you have some kind a search party that you send out?  Or like a detective who can find the people who took him…"

"Through telepathy," Professor Xavier explained carefully, "through my mutation, I am able to locate certain people.  It's how I found you and your brother, when you left Philadelphia."

In an odd way, the claim made sense.  It explained how the X-Men had been able to follow them, how they had known where they were.  Nora felt her hopes suddenly rise.  "And you can use that to find Luke?"

The pause the professor took lingered, warning her that his answer would not be a favorable one.

His voice lowered an octave.  "For unknown reasons, I have been unable to locate your brother."  He watched the news weigh down upon the girl's shoulders, watched the words sink through her.  "However, I intend to keep searching for him, and for the people who have taken him."

Nora looked up with a determination he hadn't expected.  "I want to help," she said.  "I'm his twin.  There's got to be something I can do."

The professor shook his head.  "Right now, I fear there is little that can be done that will not put you in harm's way."

Nora stubbornly pursed her lips.  Luke hadn't cared about the dangers.  He'd sacrificed his life to save hers.  Why shouldn't she?  Her mind raced through her options.  She could strike out on her own.  A map of the world stretched out in her mind.  She felt the sudden impulse to leave just then, get up from the chair, pack a bag, and not stop looking, never stop until he was found.  She would search every country, every crevice of every city, relentlessly until she brought him home.  That's what Luke would do.

At that point, the professor's eyes met hers.  They seemed to somehow bore through to her core.  "And bringing harm to yourself," he said in a gentle voice, "will not help your situation."

Frustration built up in the pit of her stomach as logic and reason - the two things she had always relied upon to guide her - held her back.  She closed her eyes.  She knew he was right… She wasn't Luke.  Running away and scouring the earth for her brother would only get herself killed, and if she wasn't alive, who would keep looking?  Who would care for him like she would?

In a silent answer to her question, against her closed eyelids Nora saw her parents, her father with his easy smile and her mother's warm embrace.

She felt an urge to hear their voices like never before.  "I need to call my parents," she said, sitting up.  "They need to know what happened.  They need to know I'm okay."

There was another pause, even longer this time.  She darted her eyes to Cyclops, and then back to the professor, this time not understanding their hesitation.

"Nora, if I thought it was safe, I would let you call your parents," Professor Xavier told her.  "There are powerful people looking for you.  If they know where you are, they could attempt to capture you.  And that is something we cannot risk."

Her mind latched onto a single thought.  _You can't go home.  _The words echoed, faster and faster until they were overtop of each other.  _You can't go home._  _You can't go home. _ A hurt and confused look spread across Nora's face as she brought her hand up to her temple.  She didn't understand it, couldn't accept what she was hearing.

"In calling your parents, you would be alerting them to where you are."

When she opened her mouth to speak, her words were scratchy against her suddenly dry throat.  "Who did this?" she needed to know.

"We are looking for the people who did this to you," the professor assured in a strong voice.  "We have dealt with similar groups before who share their intentions, and it is quite possible that they are in some way connected."

Listening to him, Nora grew sick to her stomach.  Again, she felt that deep and strangely familiar sensation.  It burned her cheeks and forehead.  A sudden hate filled her for the people who'd taken her brother.  She hated them.  _Hated them. _

Cyclops shifted uncomfortably as he watched her face steel and her eyes darken.

"So the truth is," she said in a cold voice, "you can't find my brother."

If the professor was put off by the attitude in her tone, he didn't show it.  "We will keep looking, Nora," he said softly, "and right now that is the most anyone can do."

She stared at him then, reading the underlying meaning behind his message.  She was beyond the help of society.  She couldn't trust them, not her parents, not her family, not the authorities.  She frowned, retreating further and further into her thoughts.  She had nothing… What little help these people could offer her was the best she could get.

Her eyebrows pent together so deeply that the gesture was painful.  She nodded to show that she understood.

The professor drew nearer.  "When we find more, you will be the first to know," he said.  His voice rose slightly.  "Until then, you are welcome to stay here, for as long as you would like.  We've prepared a room for you, on the same floor with others your age.  You'll be safe here from those searching for you."

Though greatly disoriented, Nora shook her head.  "I don't have any…"  She meant to say 'money', but it hadn't come out.

The professor shook his head.  "We don't ask for compensation here," he told her.

Unsure of how to respond, she only nodded.  

After giving her a few more comforting words, the professor ended by telling her that Mr. Summers would show her to her room.

Confused, she looked around, wondering who he was referring to, and then saw Cyclops come forward.  She nodded to him, understanding now that Mr. Summers and Cyclops were one and the same.

Nora kept her arms crossed across her middle for comfort as they left the room.  As they returned back the way they came, Scott gestured for her to follow him up a nearby flight of stairs.  "Your room's up here," he said.

She trailed after him obediently, but remained eerily silent as they reached a quiet room at the end of the hall.  "There's a bathroom down the hall," he told her, "and a sink in your room."

"Thanks," she murmured, opening the door.

Cyclops caught her lightly by the shoulder.  "Nora?"

She looked back, already halfway inside the room.

He took a breath.  "I know what you're going through is probably too difficult for you to talk about right now, but I want you to know that if you ever want someone to talk to, we're here for you."  He took a pause.  "The staff – myself, the professor, and other teachers – live here, along with the students.  If you ask around, the other students can usually tell you where we are.  We're normally nearby."

All he got out of her was another one of her distracted nods.

With the offer on the table, he knew, for now, that he could only wait for her to come to him.  "If you need anything, just be sure to let us know."  He stepped back.  "I'll let you get settled…"

Nora nodded again, waiting until Cyclops was a few good paces down the hall before shutting the door behind her.  Leaning against the closed door, she let out a deep sigh and looked around the still and silent room.  Not bothering to turn on a light, she used the dim mid-afternoon light from the window to take in her surroundings.

The room reminded her of the dorm rooms she'd seen when she'd been on college visits.  It was big enough that two people could have squeezed into it, but there was only one bed, with a pillow and colorful blanket pulled overtop.  She looked to the closet.  There were towels up top, several outfits on hangers, and a pair of dress shoes on the floor.  Nearby there was also a desk, with a lamp, a pad of paper, and a pen.

Nora felt emotion well up inside of her.

She had everything she needed except…

Even though there was no one there, she put up her hands to cover her face.  Falling down onto the bed, she laid face down on top of the pillow and clutched it to cover her cheeks.

Alone in the room they'd given her, she cried as quietly as possible, wishing she knew how to be stronger, but knowing that in this strange place, away from her brother, her family, and everything she had known, it simply wasn't an option.


	20. New Girl

Wow!  An update! ;)  Are you impressed?  I know I am.  Sorry about the wait!  Enjoy!

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A few hours after classes were finished, Aimee Whittaker gave a brisk, cheery knock on the new girl's door to the drum beat of Smashmouth's "I'm a Believer" playing lightly in the hallway.The walls were thin, and though she received no vocal confirmation, she could hear the distinct sound of someone stirring inside.  

She stood back, waiting for an answer.

Earlier that morning the professor had asked Aimee to stay after class, and he'd explained to her the girl's new life developments.  She had learned that 'new girl' was actually Miss Nora Blaize, one of the missing twins from the news broadcast, and that right now, with a bunch of mutant-haters out to get her and her twin brother MIA, it pretty much suckedto be her.  

"We showed her to her room this morning, and she has yet to venture out on her own," the professor had told her.  "If you could, keep an eye on her."

With all Professor Xavier had done for her over the years, Aimee had physically jumped at the opportunity to care for the newest student.  The X-Men had taken her in at the tender age of five, and she had lived at the mansion ever since.  The school was the only home Aimee could remember having, and the students and staff, her only family.  Heck, with all the years of meeting and befriending newcomers, she probably would have made sure to check on the situation even if the professor _hadn't _asked her to do it.

The heads-up on the sitch gave her first dibs on letting Nora know she couldn't possibly be welcomer at the school.  A grin snuck onto her lips.  And to her further delight, it also gave her full bragging rights of being the first to hear the story firsthand from the primary source of Ms. New Girl herself.

Ha, she thought, smiling smugly.  It would be the last timeBobby Drake would have the nerve to step on _her _turf.  Of that, she would make certain. 

* * * * *

When Nora heard the knock on the door, she wearily lifted her head from the pillow.  She wasn't exactly sure how long she had been lying there, but it had been quite a few hours since she'd registered anything outside of her own thoughts.  Quickly rushing to her feet, she hurriedly brushed tears from her eyes and checked herself in the mirror by the sink.

Her face fell.  Her eyes were red from crying, and the creases in the pillowcase had left their tracks across her cheeks.  She splashed water in her face and quickly made her way to the door, hoping that her visitor hadn't abandoned her.

Nora had no reason to worry.  The moment she opened the door a young girl with blonde hair and sparkling brown eyes stood only inches from her face and grinned enthusiastically.  "Hi!"  

Nora jumped back.  "Um, hello," she greeted uncertainly.

"You're Nora, right?  Came in a couple days ago on the jet?" the blonde started out immediately.  "I wanted to stop by earlier, but I had class and then I had lunch and then I had class again and then I had practice and – well, you know how it is."  She briskly walked into the room past Nora.  "Have you had a chance to set up yet?  These rooms are so incredibly _boring _if you don't add some kind of Wal-Mart, K-Mart twenty-first century color to it.   I swear the drapes have been up since like the days of the cotton gin."  She gasped suddenly, causing Nora to jump.  "Oh my God, I've got this _kickass_ poster of Joaquin Phoenix in my closet.  It'd look awesome in here!  Get a little mandatory testosterone up on the walls.  Is he your type?  Or are you more rustic cowboy?  Well, either way, you'd _love _this picture I've got.  No straight female or homosexual man could resist, and you know, if you're not into guys, there's a convenience store downtown, nice sexy picture of Natalie Portman, but man, Joaquin Phoenix…Talk about a fine piece of man-meat."

Nora merely looked on, too stunned by the girl's strange behavior to muster a reply.  She narrowed her eyes at the girl before letting out a short, incredulous laugh.  Was she serious…?

Before Nora could inquire as to who she was, Aimee stopped suddenly and turned around in a blur.  "Man…it's sorta lonely in here.  Anyone show you around the school yet?"

Nora opened her mouth, still in the midst of deciding how to react to her visitor.  "Um…no."  She surprised herself with how polite she sounded.  "Not yet anyway."

"Uh-oh," Aimee said, a wry grin spreading mischievously across her lips.  

Nora looked to the side, feeling afraid and not knowing why.  "What?"

Draping an arm around her shoulder, Aimee led her out of the room and kicked the door shut behind them with a flair.  "First rule.  No being shy in front of me, girl."  She looked this way and that, comically suspicious.  "I have a reputation to keep here.  You gotta be smooth, cool, open.  Can you dig it?"

Nora laughed cautiously as they started down the stairs, only growing more and more bewildered as the conversation continued and the girl took her down the hallway.  "A reputation?"

"Yeah, a reputation!"  Aimee looked at Nora like she had just popped out of the loony bin and declared herself queen of the grilled cheese sandwiches.  "Didn't anyone tell you?"

Nora's blank stare begged her to embellish.

"Oh my God, I can't believe no one told you.  I am so somebody you'd want to keep in your rolodex.  If you ever need to know anything about anybody in this entire school, I'm your man."  She presented herself proudly.  "Well, girl, I mean," she quickly corrected.  She laughed at her own joke.  "So if you ever need to know which teachers to avoid, which student's going out with who, who just dumped who, who's a depressed homicidal maniac with an Oedipus complex-" 

"You're the person to see," she finished for her, smirking as she began to understand.  Ah-ha, she realized.  So the girl was the local gossip, who had come to meet and greet.

Pinning the girl in such a manner immediately began to calm Nora.  She had found familiar ground.  Perky, good-humored airheads she could handle.  They were easy to please, and this particular one didn't seem out to cause harm to the general public.

Unaware that she was being tagged and released back into the wild, Aimee gave an ample, exaggerated nod.  "Yes.  Oh my God, I'm so glad to see that we're both on the same wavelength."  She leaned in closely, her voice becoming serious for the slightest moment.  "But, you know…if you ever want to talk about something off the record, and believe me, I'm talking _totally completely _off the record, it'd be cool.  These lips are King Tut's tomb pre-excavation – air-tight, sealed from the public.  No lie.  Barbara Walters' ethics pale in comparison…"

Amused, Nora nodded pleasantly, but chose to say no more.  She recognized the offer in disguise, and quietly filed the information away in her mind.  It was sweet in its own way…but it was nothing that made her suddenly desire to divulge all the details of her life story.

They had made their way into what appeared to be a student recreation room when the girl gave another patented sudden gasp, spinning around to face Nora.  "Oh my God!  I totally forgot to introduce myself!  Geez, where are my manners?  I'm Aimee.  Or Galetea, whatever you like.  Some people are all about the mutant name, you know what I mean?  You'd think it was their first-born child or something."

Smiling slightly, Nora took a hold of her out-reached hand and gave it a strong shake.  "Mine's Artemis," she said.  She leaned in and lowered her voice.  "But it's more like a second-cousin twice-removed.  Call me Nora."

Aimee let out an appreciative laugh as she traipsed into the rec-room, followed by her curious companion.  She laughed because the comment had genuinely amused her, but also because she could already tell that 'new girl' was coming around.  Like many, she would just need some time. 

* * * * *

On the other side of the rec-room, Trevor Avish had easily become lost in his craft.  Earlier that afternoon, he had brought up a wedge of clay from the art room to instill a pleasant change of atmosphere in both lighting…and company.  He glanced around at the other students, playing ping-pong and lounging in front of the tube.  What could he say?  Sometimes he liked being a part of that after-class bustle moving about him.

He had subconsciously started to shape the block into what was beginning to look like a watering well, when he heard the familiar clamoring voice of Aimee Whittaker laugh out loud behind him.

As he glanced up from his unfinished sculpture, he grinned to Aimee, and then naturally looked to the girl beside her.

In that instant, Trevor froze, feeling his heart pause for a moment inside his chest.

His eyes locked onto the figure walking past him in slow motion.  

"Whoa," he breathed as she entered into the room.  A soft smile appeared on his face as he studied the defined arch of her back, the symmetry of her smooth legs, accompanied by a body with deft curves a poet could not describe.  

Trevor let his mouth hang open uselessly.  She was beautiful.


	21. Sudden Meetings

Trevor's eyes never left Nora as Aimee guided the girl through the rec-room and began introducing her to the students interacting around them.  He heard Aimee excitedly present the girl to Piotr and Kitty and watched as they paused their game of foosball to meet her.

Standing there, unable to move, he could feel his breath run short.  He felt lightheaded, like he'd been in a dead run all day long and only now had been allowed to take a break.  But the physical trauma engulfing him was not alone; it was coupled by an elation, a strange giddiness that started in his stomach and climbed upward, causing a shiver the back of his throat.  The more he stared at her, the more he found himself wanting to know her, wanting to put his arm around her shoulder, take her to the movies…

Trevor had become so absorbed in imagining a month worth of dating with the girl that he hadn't even seen Aimee break away from her to walk up to him and wave her hand wildly in front of his face.

"Hey!" she finally shouted to get his attention.  She lightly tapped the top of his head with her pointer finger.  "You in there?"

Shirked from his daydream, Trevor flailed his arms backwards.  "What?" he demanded.

"Hey, cool your jets.  Just thought I'd do you a favor and bring you back to Earth for a second," she said.  "You know?  The planet we live on?"  Trevor blushed slightly, and she shook her head at him endearingly.  "Geez, give you a block o' clay, and you're lost to modern society for the rest of the afternoon."

Trevor shook his head.  "Yeah.  Sorry.  Just spaced out…"

Aimee lifted her voice to make sure that Bobby could hear over the television.  "Well, I just had to distract you because I've brought the new girl down to meet everyone.  You should come over to see her."  When she saw Bobby's head predictably perk up, Aimee grinned victoriously and turned back to Trevor.  "Pop by when you're ready for a break, Michelangelo.  Play it cool, alright?"

Trevor's eyes bulged as she turned around to leave.  _What?! _  No!  He couldn't meet her!  He reached out for her arm and narrowly missed.  "No!  Aimee," he whispered between gritted teeth.

But the blonde girl had already gallivanted away, making sure not to abandon her guest for too long in the full and boisterous room.

Knowing that she could return in any minute, Trevor felt the beginnings of panic.  He checked his reflection in the window.  Crap, he hadn't brushed his hair!  Not that that was really something special; he never brushed his hair. There had never been anyone to impress before now.  He hadn't brushed his teeth since breakfast.  His clothes were a wrinkled disgrace from a day's wear.  He didn't have on any cologne.  Wait, back up.  Did he even own any cologne?

He was a mess, and he saw no plausible way to undo the damage in the next ten seconds.  Trevor looked from one side to the other.  In this unique situation, there was only one thing any self-respecting man could do.  

Retreat to higher ground.

Trevor looked back to make sure Aimee was far enough away.  He hunched over and made a break for the door.

* * * * *

When Nora had first followed the energetic blonde into the common room, she had immediately felt several sets of eyes glance her way.  Despite the fact that the students didn't openly stare and that their gazes were often followed by smiles, she felt as though she had been suddenly thrust upon stage for an awaiting audience, with no lines or direction to speak of.  She found herself standing closer and closer to Aimee.  Christ, she thought, feeling her cheeks warm.  All that was missing was the spotlight.  

However, much to Nora's shock (and relief) Aimee did nothing to increase the embarrassment of the situation.  She didn't gather the masses.  She didn't call the room's attention.  She didn't even announce their arrival.

And for that, Nora couldn't have been more grateful.

As she gradually met the students in groups of ones and twos, she found herself falling back on old habits.  Though the atmosphere had a surreal edge that she couldn't ignore, she impressed herself by shaking hands, smiling, and exchanging pleasantries.  She even made a joke here and there.

It was a strongly bizarre experience…but it wasn't bad, she decided, feeling some of her nervousness ebb away.  Then again, after fighting off kidnappers and running for her life, an impromptu 'meet and greet' at a mutant school should have seemed much tamer in comparison.

In the midst of it all, Aimee passed an encouraging grin to Nora, letting her know that she was doing just fine.  However, after introducing her to two students at a foosball table, Aimee broke from her side, running up to a boy of average weight and height with wispy red hair cut to his shoulders.

It was only a matter of moments before she returned, grinning from ear to ear.  "Nora, there's someone here, I've just _got _to introduce you to.  He's-"  She was interrupted as her eyes caught the same person moving across the room at a surprising rate.

Without warning, Aimee rushed away from Nora's side and excitedly grabbed the fleeing boy by the sleeve of his turtleneck.  "Trevor!" she called.

Though it seemed that 'Trevor' had designs on leaving the room, Aimee prattled away at him, proving that she simply wouldn't hear of it.

Nora tried to share an empathetic gaze with the student, to let him know that she understood his reluctance all too well, but he seemed too busy trying to find the nearest escape route to return the gesture.  

The slightest smile quirked onto Nora's face as she watched their continued interaction.  It was reassuring to know that Aimee was indiscriminate.

Apparently, Nora was only one of many who fell subject to her wide range of enthusiasm.

* * * * *

Trevor felt his body lock up. "Aimee," he tried whispering again before it was too late.  "Aimee, I don't think-"

"-And Nora, this is Trevor," she gushed.  "Trevor Avish meet Miss Nora Blaize."

At the sudden introduction, Trevor froze, leaving his lips gapping apart to show partway into his mouth.

As he stood there lost in speechlessness, Aimee's eyes widened behind Nora, and she gave an exaggerated arch of her neck, hoping to prompt him.

Trevor tried, but no words would form.  He clammed up, instantly forgetting the name of the girl before him not to mention his own, despite the fact that they both had been repeated twice for his listening pleasure.

At his continued silence, Nora gave an uneasy chuckle.  "Um, hello."  She offered out her hand.

Trevor felt his lips go dry.  His mouth quivered as he searched blindly for his voice.

Aimee sent him a look.  _Say something, dummy! _it ordered him.

Receiving her death glare, Trevor stammered as he broke from his stupor.  He latched onto Nora's hand, shaking it vigorously.  "Pleased to nice to gonna meet you," he told her.

Narrowing her eyes, Nora's disbelieving stare perfectly mirrored Aimee's.

Trevor's face burned crimson as Nora carefully pulled back her hand.  He imagined bracing himself and running face first into the nearest wall to knock himself unconscious. It would have been the next best thing.  He wanted to curl up and die.

Nora searched his eyes for any form of clarification… but came up short.  "Oookay," she drawled out, nodding with wide eyes.  "It's, uh, nice to meet you, too."

Panicking, Aimee moved to try to save him. "Trevor's an artist," she quickly provided.

"Yes!" Trevor shouted, causing Nora to jump.  "Yes, I – me – art.  I do art.  I like art.  It's…"  The circle his hands were making slowed as he saw her face.  "It's good," he finished in defeat.  "For me…"  His hands folded themselves back in front of him.  "To do."

Slowly inching away, Nora tried to nod kindly.  "That's good," she confirmed for him.  "Art's a good thing."

"Yeah," Trevor said, clenching his eyes together painfully.

"Okay," Aimee announced brightly, escorting Nora away before he did any further damage to his reputation.  "Umm, did you meet Rogue and Bobby yet?  They're our longest running couple.  _Inseparable, _let me tell you."  She leaned in to whisper.  "Though one – of the male persuasion – tried to one up me in the gossip department a few days ago.  Inner scandal _all the way_…"

Nora chuckled slightly and then turned to look over her shoulder.  "It was nice to meet you," she said.  "I'll see you later."

Trevor nearly followed her away.  "Oh, yeah, definitely," he quickly answered.  "Definitely…"

When the girl turned her back and followed Aimee across the room, Aimee shot back a concerned, questioning look to Trevor.

Tossing up his hands in an upset shrug, an expression of full-fledged panic returned to Trevor's face.  Aimee put up a finger behind her, ordering him to wait, and went about the business of introducing Nora to Rogue and Bobby.  When they seemed to be relating well and getting along, Aimee suggested that the couple start to show her the rest of the school, just to give her an idea of how bitchin' the place actually was.

Convinced that she was in good hands, Aimee watched Bobby and Rogue slowly lead her out of the room and rapidly padded back to Trevor, who was still looking just as bewildered as ever. 

She narrowed her eyes as she reached him.  "When I said 'play it cool', you knew I wasn't joking, right?"

Trevor stared forward blankly.  "I can't even remember what happened," he suddenly realized.  "What was the first thing I said?"

Aimee looked to the side.  "I think it was 'please to nice to gonna meet you.'"

Trevor turned away from her, letting his head fall against the heel of his hand with a 'slap.'  "Ugh…"

"What the heck happened?" Aimee demanded.

"My mind went completely blank!  I had no idea what to say."  Dropping down on a nearby stool, he tried explaining it.  "It was like I wanted to say everything at once and nothing at all at the same time."

Standing behind him, Aimee rested her hands reassuringly on his shoulders.  "Buddy, I hate to tell you this, but I think you succeeded, because that's pretty much what it sounded like."

Leaning back against her, Trevor raked his fingers through his long red hair.  He'd done exactly what he hadn't wanted to do.  "I choked," he said dejectedly.  "She probably thinks I'm a mental patient..."

"Well, hey, don't beat yourself up," she said.  "Sheesh, it's just a new girl.  It's not like she-" And then, Trevor turned around and looked Aimee right in the eye.

The look upon his face was unmistakable.  "Oh my God," Aimee drawled out, not believing it even thought it was right there in front of her.  "Oh my God!  You like her, don't you?"  He voice became even louder than before.  "You like her!"

Trevor urgently put up his hands to stop her.  "Do you think you could say it a little louder?  Because I don't think they heard you upstairs," he said, trying to get her to calm down.

But it was still too much to handle.  "But honest to God, you're serious?!  You like her!  Just like that?"  His nervous shrug answered her question.  "Oh my God!  This is phenomenal!"  For the first time in years, Aimee didn't know what to say.  Trevor never fell victim to crushes so easily, so simply as he just had now.  "This…this is unbelievable!"  She shook him by the shoulders.  "This is fabulous!  You do realize that, right?"

"Nooooo," he returned.  "This is not fabulous.  I just made a complete fool of myself.  I couldn't even remember my name.  I couldn't even remember what state I was in!"

"Honey, it's Trevor, and you're in New York."

Trevor growled slightly.  "Sure, I know that _now. _ But I couldn't even get a word out before.  God," he chided himself.  "I don't know what happened…" 

Aimee looked at him sympathetically  "Well, hey, it's alright.  I guarantee that you'll have _plenty _of chances to redeem yourself.  The girl's not exactly ready to jump into a relationship of the romantic genre anyway.  She's the very incarnate of instability right now.  You'll have weeks, maybe months, which means more than enough opportunities to get to know her."  She looked him dead in the eyes to get the point across.  "Time is on your side.  You're on easy street, babe."

Trevor let out a deep huff of breath.  "Okay," he finally agreed.  "Okay.  Maybe you're right…"

"Atta boy," Aimee whispered encouragingly.

"I'll just take things slow…"

Aimee's hands went up.  "It's the only way you can take it right now."

He heaved a whimsical sigh as he went back to gather up his art supplies.  "And who knows?  Maybe Rainman's her type…"

Aimee grinned, thankful to see that he hadn't lost his good humor.  "See?  There's the Trevor Avish I know and love."  She snickered devilishly.  "And if something should happen and you disappear off the face of the Earth, we can always call in Dustin Hoffman for a stunt double."

"Yeah," he agreed, laughing. "She would never know the difference!"  His voice turned to a mumble.  "Except, he'd probably do a better job at _not _sounding like a complete moron."

Aimee tugged her arms around his neck and gave him a tight squeeze, landing a smacking kiss on his cheek.  "Definitely, definitely would, I think definitely," she said.  

Trevor turned around to smirk at her.  "Ha, ha," he said dryly.  "Very funny…"

"But seriously, you have several days to prepare for your next rendezvous.  Make some note cards, practice in front of the mirror.  Gather all your good jokes and witticisms, and then…"  She took a deep breath and released it.  "Rehearse."

Nodding as he began formulate a game plan, he looked to Aimee.  He was a man who was not used to acting on impulse, and the call from reality was just what he needed.  "Aimee…" he said sincerely.  "Thank you."

"You can do this," she told him as he began to go to his room.

"I can do this," he repeated.  Turning around, he muttered to himself, gaining a strange stare from Jubilee as he passed her in the hallway.

"Please to nice to gonna meet you…" _What had he been thinking?! _

* * * * *

Within mere minutes, Aimee re-joined Rogue and Bobby in the sunny hallways of the school, where they were showing Nora the classrooms and teasing about how many long hours of tortuous learning took place behind their doors.

"And yet another crisis averted," Aimee declared, falling into stride beside them.  She leaned in closer to Nora, for some unknown reason, positively beaming at her.  "Hot set-up around here, huh?"

Her comment earned an agreeable nod.  "Yeah," Nora concurred, taking in the walls and rooms that lined the hallways.  "It's like the Hilton meets 'Saved By the Bell.'"

"You know…if you want to, you could experience it all personally," she let her know.  "They offer classes to all the kids that come here.  I mean, you don't _have_ to take them.  But things tend to get kinda boring around here without them…"

Though Nora would never have used to word 'boring' to describe what she had seen so far, the thought of taking classes wasn't entirely unpleasant.  In fact, it sounded like a possibility.  It might be nice to pretend to be normal, like she was doing right now, especially since being left alone in her misery would only cause her to slow lose her mind.  "How would I do that?" she asked.

Bobby spoke up. "Well, you'd have to see the professor," he said.  "He'd get you set up with a schedule, books, what supplies you need…"

"Just like that?"  There was a cynical edge to Nora's voice.  "Just tell them I want to take classes, and they'd give me all that?  At no cost?"

Bobby nodded sincerely.

Nora smirked to herself, finding that incredibly hard to believe.  _Yeah right, _she thought suspiciously. _What was this professor guy trying to pull with her?_  In this life, you never got something for nothing.  Her father had told her that, and in her short lifetime, Nora had found it to be very true.  There was _always _an underlying motive.  She just had yet to find theirs…

She felt their stares once more.  "Well, I'll think about it," she decided.  "I want to talk to him again anyway. About a lot of things…"  She needed to find out what she was getting herself into.  "In fact, I'd like to set up a meeting with him if I could. Does he have a schedule?  Or somewhere I could sign up for a time?"

Aimee looked to Bobby and Rogue before turning back to Nora.  "Well, around here, it's kinda touch-and-go," she described.  "But I'll tell you what.  I'll bring you up after class tomorrow.  If you want, we can see where things go from there."

Nora nodded distinctively.  "Okay," she agreed.  "Okay, that sounds good."

With that taken care of, the three took her to dinner.  Throughout the meal, Aimee was, of course, bright and informative as usual, talking at length about all the ins and outs of the school.

However, no matter how pleasant Nora's responses seemed, her mind was someplace else.  She was thinking about what she would say to the professor when she met with him, and about how as of right now, it had already been over 72 hours since she had last seen her brother's face.


	22. Observation

Crystal113 & Alien and Alfie:  You ask what is happening with Lucas, and this section will answer.  As for Nora 'n Trev…you'll just have to wait.  Muwahahaha!  Btw, thanks so much for the encouragement!  It keeps me goin'.   ~  brought to you by Lampetia, answering reader's questions (slowly) one chapter at a time ;)

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It was close to two a.m. when Sergeant Manning entered into the observation room kept actively running in the center of the D.C. military base.

Dr. Rieker was the first one to notice his presence.  Vigilant as ever, he broke away from instructing his team and greeted him with a smile born of pride.  "Sergeant."

The sergeant fell into step beside him.  "I received your report."

"You look pleased," Rieker commented as they neared the compartment that had kept Mutant #27 under observation for the past twenty-four hours.

Manning's features only displayed a muted version of his satisfaction, but he _was_ pleased.  He had been more than pleasantly surprised by the report he had found on his desk that morning.  His team of scientists had effectively pooled their resources, and the behavior modification administered to the mutant had yielded positive results.  While this occurrence should not have been anything too extraordinary – as his officers fully understood that excellence was to be their standard – the relief the results brought was considerable.  

It had granted the sergeant a much needed sense of confirmation.  If Mutant #27 retained most of his original power and could be trained to use it on command in the field, the mission could not be considered a failure.  Success with Mutant #27 would mean that the sergeant had been correct in leaving his men in battle.  The soldiers who lost their lives had not died needlessly, and if Manning could go back, he would have nothing to change.

He allowed himself to indulge in the small moment of self-assurance.  After the events of the past couple days, there had not been much cause to be hopeful.

That sensation aside, Manning's thoughts returned to the report.  "I trust there were no exaggerations," he checked out of habit.

"No, no exaggerations," Rieker ruled out.  "Predictions, but no exaggerations.  I'll admit we are confident, but as you can plainly see, we have been given every reason to be."

"You said two weeks."

"That is what we have estimated, yes.  Should the approximation lessen or increase, you, Sergeant, as always will be the first to know."

As Dr. Rieker predictably went into a full discourse of what they had found since the morning report, Manning took in the atmosphere of the workroom.  What had at one point been a generally spacious observation room had transformed into a work hall with desks and computers dispersed throughout the station.  As he listened, he instinctively studied the movements of the scientists as they bustled around him.  The handful of men and women working regarded him with respect once they noticed him, but few looked up from their work.  

At first, Manning had presumed that their intense readiness to work had been orchestrated by Rieker to demonstrate to the senior officer how seriously dedicated they were to the cause.  However, their vigor was no show.  Had they suddenly moved into a flurry as they anticipated their sergeant's arrival, they would have been certain to show more energy in their movements.  But the scientists before him were not fueled by a need to impress.  Their long faces and the dark bags under their eyes belayed a serious fatigue.  The only thing pushing them was a mix of heavily caffeinated liquids and a full understanding of the importance of their work.

The progress gained with #27 was no turn of chance.  It had been reached through the unfaltering work of his scientists at the sweat of their brow.  

Their hurried movements were ones that Manning could appreciate.  

Manning spoke overtop of one of Rieker's repeated ramblings.  "I see your team hasn't stopped since the mutant arrived."

The doctor cooperatively changed gears.  "Every member was fully aware the circumstances when they agreed to be part of the team.  We have been working around the clock, but we work in shifts.  Hopefully as the structure of our research clarifies, we will not need so many minds at work.  Though I have promised that _all _who took part in the early designs will have their names associated with the study."

"Make certain that each assistant receives a decent amount of rest."  He looked to the holding chamber.  "The same pertains to the subject involved.  A collapse of exhaustion on his part or yours will do nothing to further results."

Rieker's exaggerated nod showed that he had been expecting him to make such a comment.  "A sleep schedule has already been drawn up for the subject."

"Good.  Proceed as you have so far.  Continue to inform me of all your findings on a regular interval."  He gave a distinct pause.  "No matter what the outcome."  

Rieker grasped the underlying translation all too well.  Manning would much rather receive unpleasant news than be led astray by good intentions.

"Sergeant Manning," Rieker said with the slightest smile.  "It would never even occur to me to do otherwise."

Assuaged by the answer, Manning walked back through the maze of scientists at their workstations.  This time as he passed, he offered each scientist who looked his way a small smile.  The rare gesture was one he could afford.  With the added pressure to produce further results, his team would need all the encouragement they could get.

As he was about to leave the room, a lone figure caught his eye, and the sergeant paused in his stride.

Officer Lexin Grey stood solidly at the back of the room.

It was as if the officer had been alerted of the sergeant's stare by some internal radar.  He looked up to Manning, an anticipating hilt to his gaze.   The sergeant merely nodded his acknowledgement, letting him know that at the moment he had no instructions to give him.  Lexin returned the gesture and averted his eyes back to the scene before him.

Manning did nothing more.  He fully understood what held the officer's interest.  

This was a subject Lexin Grey had personally obtained, though much effort and toil.  If he had endured the trials Grey had to ensure the mutant's presence in their program, Manning would have taken time to inspect #27's advancement as well.

* * * * *

When Manning left the observation room, Lexin Grey stayed behind.  His cold blue eyes remained fixed upon the mutant, standing stationary inside the metal holding chamber.

Logically, Lexin understood the scientific value of the mutant before him.  Direct improvement had been made over a short period of time, and with these cases, that kind of outcome was difficult to come by.  The team had more than earned their success, and the military part of him was able to share in his sergeant's good fortune.

It was that side of Lexin that restrained him from striding up, opening the door of the observation room, and calmly firing off his military-issued handgun right into #27's head.

A sneer appeared in his mind though it never touched his face.  It was that second part of Lexin that made him feel as though he was playing his own part in a circus freak show – a freak show that was costing the military countless dollars and endless hours of labor to produce.  Even if #27 eventually _did _reach some true level of usefulness as Manning's team so hoped he would, in Lexin's mind the mutant would always be nothing more than an irritant, like a splinter grating just beneath the skin.  

Admittedly, such a small laceration caused no imminent harm.  The aggravation it caused was simple to erase.  Using primitive tools, you could easily be rid of the small contamination.

But as much as the splinter irritated and stung beneath the surface, its existence never remained in the forefront of your mind.  You could convince yourself that it wasn't worth the effort, and for the most part, its incidence could be ignored.  You could easily preoccupy yourself with more pressing matters and become distracted by the immediate needs your roles required.  For awhile, you could even forget that it was there.

However, at the end of the day, there the splinter rested, unhindered.  Still visible under the film of skin, still bubbling with infection from lack of care, reminding you with unavoidable clarity of its continued prevalence.

On the outside, Lexin's breathing remained normal.  His blood pressure never rose; his jaw never tightened.  He stood straight and tall with a calm dignity that came as naturally to him as any other inborn bodily instinct.  To any onlooker, he appeared to be just as he advertised.  A collected man taking in his atmosphere, most likely absorbed in the more important thoughts his position called him to think about.

But beneath the surface, Lexin was boiling.  This creature.  This mockery of evolution.  This mutant, after all his crimes and grisly exploits, was being kept alive as a glorified artifact, as living proof that even the most dangerous mutants could be controlled in captivity by the modern drugs medical science afforded them.

The mutant before him was a reminder that no matter how thoroughly Lexin understood the imminent danger mutants posed to humanity, he could do little to alter the events transpiring before his very eyes.

Lexin watched as a series of wires were attached to the mutant's bare chest.  When the doctor gave the signal, shockwaves were sent through his body.  When the mutant involuntarily jolted backwards from the force, Lexin's face belayed the tiniest satisfied smile.  It was small recompense, knowing that somewhere Lucas Blaize was suffering, but it was satisfaction all the same.

He hoped it was true that the mutants could physically feel every sensation that touched their skin, and he hoped it hurt like hell.

Across from him, another figure stood just as silently, barely visible against the sidewall.  Watching the officer's reaction, Dr. Sierra Bentley gathered her own suspicions.  Though Lexin wasn't aware, she had seen the nearly undetectable smile cross his face, and the unmistakable glint in his eyes. 

The small traces provided immeasurable proof that his connection with Mutant #27 had not ended at the subject's entrance into the scientific study.  

It was an observation Dr. Bentley would not soon forget.


	23. No Pranks, All Business

Finally!  Sheesh, took me long enough, huh?  Running two jobs leaves little time for hobbies (Though if anyone would like to pay me – I could work for you!  And write you fiction in return for food, shelter, and pocket money!  There's a job I could handle….)  Thanks again for the reviews, guys.  You're the best! ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night Nora found it impossible to sleep, so amidst her tossing and turning she spent the early morning hours wisely, thinking over the things she wanted to cover with the professor again and again in her mind.  

She knew she had to be prepared.  At dinner some of the students had talked about the professor's ability to read minds at will.  According to what they had told her, the man could enter into your mind and search for thoughts, memories even.  Sometimes he could see things inside a mind that even the owner himself didn't know was there.  The very idea had made her insides shudder, and the probable truth behind it had only worsened her already shaky nerves.

Thankfully though, the next morning Aimee remembered her offer.  The petite blonde arrived promptly at her door, and Nora had to admit, seeing her eager face did ease some of the tension. Aimee accompanied Nora down the stairs and led her right up to the door of Professor Xavier's office, just like she said she would.

"I let him know you were coming," Aimee told Nora in a quiet tone, tilting her neck toward the open door.  After giving Nora's shoulder a comforting squeeze, she took a position resting against the wall opposite his door.  "I'll let you two do your thing, and wait for you out here, okay?"

"Thanks," Nora said.  "I won't take long."

"Oh yeah, be quick about it.  I mean, I just couldn't _stand _to miss another enthralling lecture on howgeometric proofs compose the very _fiber _of our being.  Are you kidding?  Take all morning.  Take all night!  You, child, are the perfect excuse for me to miss another rousing session of geometry class."

Nora let out a crooked smile.  "I'm glad to hear I serve a purpose."

"Hey, a girl's gotta take her perks where she can get 'em."

"Well, no promises," she said, starting toward the room.  "But I'll do my best to drag things out where I can."

Aimee put a hand up.  "No, no, please.  Honest to God, I'm just kidding."  She brought down the volume of her voice.  "Say what needs to be said."

Nora nodded. "I'll be back."

"I'll be here."

Taking strong deliberate steps forward, Nora rapped lightly on the open door, and almost immediately, the professor's distinguished voice asked her to enter.  After she greeted him and shut the door behind her, the two exchanged the regular sequence of polite remarks, and she took a seat in front of him.

His eyes remained on hers the entire time.  "Aimee said that you wanted to speak with me."

"I do."  Nora folded her hands in front of her, trying to appear composed and above all, in control. "First off, I wanted to thank you for all you've done for me.  The last time we spoke I was a little less than grateful, and I wanted to remedy that."

The sincerity never left the professor's voice.  "There's no need to apologize.  I believe your reaction was only reasonable given the circumstances."

As the events of their last meeting flowed back to her, she couldn't help but reply, "I guess you haven't found anything more, since the last time we talked."

The professor shook his head.  "I'm afraid any new information has yet to reveal itself."

"Right."  While this time she had been expecting such a response, she couldn't help but let a trace of sadness cross her face.

Even with the emotion's appearance, she tried to keep going anyway.  "A couple of the students said something about classes, that you offer them to the kids that come here."  She looked to the professor.  "I'd really like to…" 

Though she had thought herself to be perfectly fine, she felt her throat go suddenly dry.  It descended swiftly and without warning. Thoughts of Luke flew through her, and it became too much.  The thought of never seeing him again, never hearing him talk or laugh even, never again having him in her life…  As the glimpse of this possible future reared its ugly head, Nora felt her composure slipping.  "To have something to…" she tried to get out.

Studying her, Professor Xavier softly finished for her. "To have something to occupy your thoughts."

Nora held her hand tight against the armrest of the chair to steady herself, and taking a long, deep breath, nodded her confirmation.

As she felt the wave recede backwards, her body relaxed, and she heard the professor validate her. "I think that would be a wise thing for you to do."

The professor waited for her, and slowly, Nora regained her initial self-control.  Along with it, she also remembered her reason for coming. "I think so, too," she said.  "But…before I do that, there's something else I wanted to discuss with you."

The professor's nod gave her room to continue.

Her jittery nerves cleanly slipped underneath a stance that Luke referred to as her 'corporate attorney' persona.  It was a cover she had honed through plenty of practice.  No pranks, all business. 

"Before we go any further, I just think it's only right to let me know.  What's the deal around here?"

The professor blinked once.  "The deal?"

"You take me in, you give me a place to stay, you agree to help me find my brother…" Nora gave a distinct pause.  "It only makes sense that after all the services you've provided me with, you'd expect some kind of reimbursement.  I can respect that."  Her words came out sounding much more rehearsed than she planned, but she continued anyway.  There was certainly no turning back now.

She zeroed in on him.  "What I can't respect is when the truth is kept hidden from me, whether out of well-meaning intentions or not.  Now, I decided to come right to you about this, because I think you'll be honest with me.  I don't know what situations you've had before with your other students, but the point I want to make is…

She took a breath. "Whatever your terms are, I'll meet them to find my brother.  I just need you to be straight with me.  We're both adults here.  I need to know my options.  You give me that, and I can guarantee I'll do my best to cooperate."

Though Nora was able to maintain her poker face, underneath it all apprehensions buzzed through her mind.  Had she come off too cocky?  She knew she was being blunt, but had she offended him in any way?  She saw nothing in his face to suggest that, but in all fairness, his poker face was probably even more convincing than hers.  After all, if he could look inside her mind, there would never be a situation that could leave him unprepared.  There was nothing to be afraid of when you held all the cards.

A new fear presented itself.  If he was listening in on her thoughts, would she have any defense?  Did you feel anything when that happened?  Was there anything to predict – 

Nora closed her eyes and jerked her thought process to a halt.  The questions, as well as the answers, right now were of little consequence.  

She focused forward.  What the professor said next would matter.

* * * * *

As Professor Xavier stared forward, he could feel only compassion for the girl before him.  Though he was indeed telepathic in nearly every sense of the word, he needed none of his mutant power to understand the condition Nora Blaize was in.  Though she was probably not aware, she looked and sounded terrified, and he took her hoarse voice and the dark bags under her eyes to mean that she had not slept the night before.

No doubt she had been up most of the night worrying about his answer to her suspicions.

Though he knew his words would do little to console her, he lent her them anyway.  "Nora, for years now, this institute has worked to take in mutants who have nowhere else to turn.  It has proven a sanctuary and a home for many mutants, all over the country.  I, and others who helped found the school, have been fortunate enough to have all the funding we need from family wealth and stature.

"With these resources at our disposal, we have been able to build classrooms, dormitories, recreation halls, and all the training equipment and medical facilities you saw in the lower levels.  While our true purpose remain hidden from the public, we have earned all that you see here through hard work and persistence, and we try to teach those values to those who come here.  It's why we offer classes, as well as training to those whose powers are a danger to themselves and others."

Now, it was his turn to lean forward to make his point.  "Our hope is to educate young mutants…to teach them about their powers and to use them responsibly.  Not to glean further funds from those who attend."

Nora stared forward as if looking at a math problem she didn't quite understand.  "So, you're trying to tell me that you don't expect any payment from me?  Of _any _kind?"

"I expect the students who go here to take the lessons we've taught them and in some way apply them to their lives.  But other than that, no.  We don't keep our students here through any deal or bargain."

For a moment, Nora looked like she might falter, but the moment passed and she sat back, shaking her head.  Despite the sincerity of his words and the coherency of his argument, Nora remained unconvinced.  However, the professor left his words as they were.  There was nothing else he could say to eradicate her doubts, but he didn't need to.  He knew that time itself would provide the best picture of what his institution was all about.

After a long silence, Professor Xavier spoke up once more.  "If you would still like to take classes, I could show you your options."

Staring off to the side, Nora let out a quiet sigh, but nodded.  It took a few moments to get her involved, but once she was, she spent the next half hour choosing from an array of classes the school offered.  At the end of the meeting she was handed a hand-written schedule, that looked surprisingly similar to the one she had received at her former high school.

"If you like," the professor told her, "you can start tomorrow."

Nora rose, holding her new textbooks to her chest.  "Thank you," she said, still avoiding eye contact.

As she turned to leave, the professor called after her, "Nora."

She turned around.

"I know right now you're overwhelmed by all you've gone through in the past few days.  Your circumstances may seem difficult for others to understand…"  He looked past her to glance at the door Aimee was waiting behind.  "But that doesn't mean you should have to go through them alone."

Nora's eyelids lowered, too many thoughts running through her mind to take what he said at face value.  With another thank you that was mostly out of courtesy, she left the room with only more questions instead of answers.

Aimee joined her once she exited the room and helped her carry her books upstairs.

"Everything cool?" she asked.

"Yeah," Nora said.  When they reached her room, they put her books down on the desk.  As agitation built up a headache in her brain, she scooped her hair up into a ponytail.  "I've got a question."

Aimee looked up.  "Okay, I've got an answer."

Nora almost smirked.  She knew she would.  "You guys have a track around here?  You know, for racing?"

"Ummm, no track.  But we have a trail that kinda winds its way along the property, goes back into the woods."

Nora opened the closet and grabbed a pair of sneakers.  "Even better."


	24. The Proper Distraction

- - - - - -

That afternoon Nora ran herself into exhaustion and spent the night in a deep dreamless sleep. Was it unhealthy? Probably. But when she considered her options, physical exertion proved the only appropriate therapy.

The next day's classes were not unlike her sprints through the forest. Instead of testing her physical limits, they tested her mentally – both academically and socially. She was expected to pay attention and jot down a note or two, but also, she was expected to remain calm and reserved for hours at a time.

It was an act she became excellent at performing.

The teachers made the transition as easy as possible. The professors introduced her to the class without fanfare, excluding awkward questions concerning past schools or favorite things to do on the weekends.

She thought perhaps Miss Munroe had done it best.

The African woman had raised her voice and opened a hand. "We have a new student, Nora Blaize. If you have yet to introduce yourself, you'll have plenty of time to do so after this class. And Nora? If you have any introductions you'd like to make with the students, feel free to do so as well." She smiled slyly. "But consider yourself warned. They will most likely speak at a greater length than you would ever want them to."

The comment had earned a polite string of laughter, and for the first time in a long time, Nora had not felt at complete odds with her surroundings.

The classes continued much in that fashion throughout the day, and then throughout the week. Her schedule kept her occupied until around three in the afternoon, and from there, schoolwork and community dinner passed her time. The other school students spent some of their afternoons training in the downstairs section on the building. Though the offer had been made, Nora did not feel herself mentally or emotionally ready to experiment with her powers.

Nonetheless, the students and the display of their mutant powers sent a thrill through Nora, and their generally open candor put her at ease. She realized all too soon, that just by having been born a mutant she was accepted into their fold. Over the days, she witnessed what Professor Xavier had been alluding to when he referred to the school as a sanctuary. It was an asylum…a break from the dangers of the outside world, and in shifts Nora felt both comforted and consumed by it.

And she thought of Luke…constantly. She would be studying in class, or taking a bite of a sandwich, or staring off into the space, and he would hit, brutally and without warning. Nora kept control as best she could – badgering the teachers for answers, watching news broadcasts to the point of obsession, delving so deep into her mind trying to find a connection to her brother that she was surprised when her brain didn't burst from the strain.

Luke wasn't the only one on her mind. She thought of her parents… She thought of her old school classmates….She thought of neighbors, friends, and acquaintances, all whom she might never see again.

When she could take it, she continued on with her studies. When she couldn't, she took to the outside path, physically draining herself of the same strength that would have found her brother had it been able.

Her days soon led to the end of the first week, with few answers found and no news given. On Friday, the last day of classes, Nora sat in the recreation room as she had so many other times that week; her body slouched down into the sofa, and her eyes alert, glued to CNN. She was half hoping for a full report on the rescue of her brother…and half waiting for news of his death to appear on the screen.

- - - - - -

As Nora remained submerged in the 7 'o clock news, a student peeked in from the doorway. It wasn't the first time he had stopped to find himself staring…and he didn't expect it to be the last.

Convinced that she couldn't see him out of the corner of her eye, Trevor Avish heaved a long, discouraged sigh.

He had tried. He tried speaking to her in a language that vaguely resembled English. He tried staying in the same room as she was. He even tried approaching her once. His eyes clenched shut at the memory. Yeah, that _might _have worked, if that last step on the staircase hadn't sent him careening into the 6-foot potted plant in the dining hall.

The light from the television flickered off of Nora's face, her mouth set in a determined frown. Trevor knew she was watching for news of her brother. She never said it, but they all knew. His frown closely mirrored her own as he stood behind her. They hadn't found him yet. Trevor was starting to wonder if they would.

Frustration welled within him at the thought. Dammit, he could be right over there, getting to know her, putting her at ease, providing some form of comfort…

Instead, he remained Trevor the Amazing Speech-Impaired Wonder-Dork. Christ, Helen Keller would have an easier time communicating than he was! Why did it have to be so difficult?

"That's it."

The words spoken beside him made him jump.

Aimee tapped her foot, the power about her petite form as fierce as it was comical. Crossing her arms, she cast her strong glance at Trevor.

"I've watched this long enough," she declared.

"Which one of us?" he murmured.

She rolled her eyes. "Both of you." She traipsed into the rec-room, making it clear that Nora was her first concern that day.

Trevor opened his mouth to remind her again to put in a good word for him, but then stopped. Another frustrated sigh doubled over.

He stood rooted in place as she strode forward; envious of the way Aimee so naturally engaged with Nora, and yet hopeful that somehow her easy manner might comfort the girl in the ways he could not.

- - - - - -

Dan Rather took a deep breath. "A tragedy in Baltimore leaves one woman dead and another man missing after a disasterous boat accident at Inner Harbor-"

There was a click, and the TV screen went black.

Nora frowned and immediately began a search for the remote.

She found it, attached to a hand of a widely grinning girl who'd become quite familiar over the past week of school.

"Enough of the tube, couch potato," Aimee proclaimed. Without further fanfare, she motioned for Nora to follow. "C'mon. You and me. Time to celebrate."

Nora raised an eyebrow. "Celebrate what?"

"Hello? The completion of your first week of school! Duh!" She propped herself up against a wall and flicked the light on, causing Nora to squint. "Monday through Friday. Five days, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, 432,000 secon-"

Nora put up her hand and rose from the couch. "Alright, alright. And just how are we going to celebrate?" She looked around the room and couldn't help but give a sideways smile. "Ping pong?"

DOOF!

The room momentarily went dark as a kamikaze pillow smacked Nora's face. When she pried the pillow out of her line of vision, Aimee stood in front of her.

"The only way two wonderful ladies of our good name and standing _can _celebrate." She grinned devilishly, snatching up the pillow and leading Nora away by the arm. "Slumber party!"


	25. Impossible to Disregard

It was late in the evening when Sierra Bentley's shift came to its close. The doctor had spent another day in the observation tower, where the most advanced medical facilities were kept in operation. During the working hours, her work called for her reactions to be at their swiftest and for her mind to be at its sharpest. However, when shutting down the medical station, little concentration was required on her part. Her hands busied themselves, turning off machinery and logging out of computer programs. It was at this point in her shift that she permitted her thoughts to wander into less technical territory.

Currently that territory involved Lexin Grey and his present state of mind. When Sierra had first met him, his personality could have been compared to that of clockwork. He kept himself under the strictest of controls, military to his bone. No unidentified emotion surfaced; no judgment was questioned. However since his encounter with Mutant 27, the slightest edge of his once smooth and steady poise had frayed. He'd been affected. By what exactly Sierra wasn't at liberty to state, but the events of the past week were slowly telling their secrets.

It had been the week of the funerals, one for each of the twelve men and women who had been killed the week before. Lexin had attended out of formality, of course. But with each funeral, his body grew slightly more haggard, and his mind became more and more occupied.

Sierra doubted that anyone else had taken notice, but she highly doubted that anyone else had been given the opportunities to analyze Lexin as she had. Before 27 was acquired, they had found in each other a physical match. Their involvement was nothing profound, but it served as a sexual outlet as well as the perfect arena in which to study the commander exclusively.

In the beginning few observations were worth a second thought. Within the first few months, he successfully preserved his façade, birthing not even a ripple on the surface. The mystery only enticed her interest further. She watched him, as if he were underneath a microscope lens, waiting for the slightest shard of humanity to slip into view.

The shard had revealed itself less than a week ago in the observation room. She had seen him staring at Mutant 27, and she had seen his satisfied smile. Since then, with all the funerals amassing, one after another, he had needed something to divert his attention. He had found that distraction in Sierra. There was a direct correlation, which was impossible to disregard. The more funerals he attended, the more he called upon Sierra.

Beneath her guards were loudly calling to one another, and it shirked her from her daze. She looked down out of the large window of the tower. Apparently the other scientists were ending their shifts as well. The mutant subjects were lined up together, in rows of four-by-four. As they marched out of the complex, she recognized one amongst the others. Walking forward in perfect sync, 27 caught her eye. Sierra stood observing his controlled movements until he left her range of vision. With nothing more to occupy her, she returned to closing up her station and locked up for the evening.

That same night she knocked on Lexin Grey's office door.

"Enter," he instructed.

When Sierra made her entrance, Lexin was methodically sorting through a pile of documents on his desk. Once he saw her, he returned to filing them in a drawer behind him. "Is your shift finished?" he asked.

"It is."

He turned his face ever so slightly. "I take it you'll be leaving for the night."

"Yes, I was planning on it."

A pause loomed between them. "Is there a purpose for your visit?"

"I was hoping," Sierra said. "That you might walk me to my car."

(x)

In actuality, they took separate cars to his apartment. For Sierra, this was a victory. In every other instance, they had spent the night at her place. Previously, Lexin never invited her, and true to form, Sierra never asked. Now, as they walked up the sidewalk to his apartment, all she had to do was follow him inside.

The moment they entered into his building, the art of direct analysis began. The apartment building was standard, nothing too aristocratic, but it was held together with enough security to ensure that anyone who did not belong would be kept out. To put it bluntly, it told her nothing she hadn't already gleaned from his appearance.

Ah, but now came his personal habitat. He unlocked the apartment and held the door open. In the dim lighting of one solitary lamp, Sierra hadn't much of a chance to look around. However, that soon became inconsequential. Lexin's hands were soon around her torso, pulling her into a heated embrace. Enjoying his advances, she returned his gestures just as passionately. But the moment Lexin closed his eyes, hers opened. He was guiding her slowly into another section of his apartment.

The bedroom Sierra Bentley found herself in was as non-descript as everything else that surrounded Lexin Grey. The room's décor could have been cookie-cut from any apartment building in the greater D.C. area. It had the beige carpet, taupe painted walls, dime a dozen Monet-look-alikes on the walls, and dark mahogany dressers. Sierra wouldn't have been surprised if she had opened up the drawers to find a matchbook and a Bible.

Even the bed – which they were falling upon now – was as basic as they come, white sheets, white mattress, with a dark wood backboard.

Lexin's hands moved down along her waist and against her hips.

Sierra stopped to focus. But now came the most telling part of the night. She glanced over his shoulder as he kissed her neck.

It was at this point – and this point only – that Lexin Grey's defenses failed to serve him.

(x)

The next morning proceeded just as any other. Sierra awoke and dressed for work while Lexin left to check his mail over his morning coffee. Sitting at his kitchen table, she drank a cup of coffee quietly, but inside her mind was rapidly operating, recording every instance from the night before.

After their intercourse, Lexin had fallen asleep, exhausted from the events the week beheld. But he hadn't slept well. He stirred during the night, unable to quiet his body or, as Sierra suspected, his mind. The doctor took another sip of her coffee. It would be interesting to see how long it took him to disclose the thoughts that were keeping him from sleeping.

Dressed in full military uniform, Lexin Grey stood leaning against the spotless countertops. They probably hadn't been used since he moved into the apartment, aside from the occasional cup of coffee. As Sierra's eyes took in the cold and impersonal apartment, she noticed one section of the living room that gave way to character. In a small corner by the empty fireplace and mantle, Lexin's desk sat in a mess of office supplies, documents, mail, and… She squinted ever so slightly. A photograph.

It surprised Sierra Bentley to find that in their rush to the bedroom she had missed such a window of opportunity. Still if she were to re-enter the bedroom slowly, she would have a chance to take a closer look. She waited a few more minutes until she finished her cup of coffee and then slowly rose from her chair.

On her way to the bedroom, she stopped by his desk, pretending to be harmlessly interested in the picture. Amidst the clutter, a photograph of a fundamentally pretty young girl smiled upward at Sierra. From across the room, Lexin noticed her pause and walked over to where she stood.

Once he was beside her, Sierra asked. "Who's the girl?"

Lexin's hand reached out and turned the photograph facedown.

"No one," he said. From there, he disappeared back to the bedroom, most likely to gather his belongings before he left for the complex.

He spoke no more about the picture, and Sierra asked no further questions. She didn't need to. His reaction told her everything she had needed to know.


End file.
